Ignite Me
by the-warner-syndrome
Summary: "We make our own choices, and mine is to bring down Anderson." She realized that sometimes one could never get what they wished for, but at least they get the next best thing—and, for her, that was the handsome and equally broken boy standing before her. [Juliette/Warner. Contains extras in Warner's POV. Don't forget to leave a review!]
1. Chapter 1: Aaron

_To the tumblr people in the Shatter Me fandom, _

_Thank you for reading Ignite Me despite it being an AU fic_

_Thank you for motivating me to write this shi—story..._

_And for supporting my Warnette feels~_

*This is just a fanfiction. The following events that will be happening here will not be in the original book, Shatter Me, by Tahereh Mafi. This is all based on my imagination.

Don't forget to check out my tumblr: the-warner-syndrome

Kinda long, yeah? Haha sorry for that. Tell me if you want me to continue. I made a plot twist just in case you guys wanted.

I also realized that this didn't actually live up to its title (Boardroom Table) since...well... there wasn't much boardroom table here. I'm still too amateur to write a lemon :D

I also wrote a fanfic entitled "Ressurect Me" and you can check it out in my account.

**Happy reading :)**

**EDIT (5/24): Thanks for the 8 reviews guys! I never expected people to actually enjoy this, let alone read it :) So I decided to make a second Chapter for y'all... If this wasn't planned on being a one-shot, the part where Juliette... (spoiler)... would be in this chapter. Maybe in the future ones...But I'm too lazy to change it, so I guess they'll still be... that.**

**EDIT (5/28): So I decided to change the title into Ignite Me :) So my other AU shatter me fanfic will now be called "Ressurect Me"**

* * *

**Ignite Me**

_**Chapter 1: **_**_"Aaron" _**

1 week,

7 days,

128 hours

A week since Anderson shot me.

A week since I last saw Adam.

A week since Warner _saved_ me.

I couldn't be grateful enough for everything Warner has done for the past week. The moment I woke up that day, the first thing that went through my mind that it was Warner who did this. It was Warner who saved me. And his voice,

the sound of his voice that time

So desperate so lost so broken. Like he doesn't care whether he gets himself killed just as long as I don't.

For a boy who has killed so many, the death of one girl is something he doesn't want to happen. He's just too kind too kind for this—too kind to me. He loves me too much and it's hurting me.

He told me that it was no big deal. That it's what he does for the people he loves. _Loves_. But he doesn't understand; for so long no one has done this-cared for me. It's just too overwhelming that I broke down in front of him, thanking apologizing again and again and again. He held me so close back then like he's afraid I'm an illusion. An imaginary person in his mind and he doesn't want me to slip away. Not again. Then he said

"I swear, love, I care for your health more than mine. The thought of you...dying...was just... I was so fucking terrified, Juliette. I was just..."

But he didn't continue and by the way his body trembled violently, remembering the image of me back then, I couldn't just push him away. I'm here, Warner. I'm here I'm alive I'm alive because of you.

So for the past week I've been living in his house, sleeping on his bed. And every night I wonder: why would someone like him do this? I thought he wanted to torture me to use my gift so he could kill everything he despised. I thought he wanted to kill me, to use my powers against me.

I was wrong

I feel horrible

"Juliette, love."

Lying on his queen-sized bed, I turned my head to where Warner is. He's sitting on the other side of the bed, his back to me. I realize that he's wearing a black suit, and it fits him perfectly. The way his hair is slicked to the back, his broad shoulders straight, his long, thin fingers fumbling with the tie.

I've seen him like this a couple of times in the past week, not in a suit but in his normal leader-uniform, and the sight of him takes my breath away. He's just too perfect that everyone and everything in the room looks so pale in comparison.

He lets out a frustrated groan, untangling his tie, and laughter escapes my lips. Seriously, he's been wearing suits since God knows when, and he still doesn't know how to knot a tie.

I heave myself up and say, "Let me help." He turns to me, a small smile playing on his lips and I think I just died again.

"Are you okay?" He asks, and I nod. Warner's been asking me this everyday; he's still worried about me, like I might just faint any second, and the way he worries that much confuses me and my stomach.

Once I'm done with his gray tie, I look him up and down, as if checking his attire while truthfully I'm just drinking in his features. He laughs once and gets out of bed, only to kneel on the floor. Taking my hand in his, he gently kisses my knuckles and it sends electricity through me. Somehow, despite the circumstances, this all feels normal.

Like I'm not some monster. Like I'm not Juliette, The Girl Who Has A Deadly Touch—I'm just Juliette. And if it wasn't for him—or his gift—I wouldn't have felt this way.

Warner lifts his head up, locking his eyes with mine, and his brows crease. After all the meetings he's been going to and the army he's been handling, only to return home tired and frustrated, I can guess where he's going and I do not like it. For the past seven days, I've never seen him wear a suit, he's never looked so polished and he looks to stiff—like this meeting of his is something that's really important. Then it hit me.

"You're meeting your father." I whisper, mostly to myself. The moment Warner stiffens my body feels numb, the warmth of my healing wound suddenly burning. He shot me. The man shot me _just because he wants to teach his son a lesson. Just because his son fell in love with a girl. _I hate him I hate him I hate him

I hate him for doing this

I hate him for shooting me

I hate him for torturing Warner

He deserves to die

"Juliette."

His voice brings me back to life, the flame of anger ignited in me dying. His hands are holding my arms now, I didn't even feel it. But when I do feel his fingers on my skin, I close my eyes. I breathe. _I'll be safe. I won't let him kill me. Warner won't let him kill me. He doesn't know that you're still here._

"It's okay," He whispers. "He won't do anything." I want to get lost in those eyes of his. I'm trying trying trying but it won't work. This only frustrates me and brings back the memory of when I tried to do the same thing with Adam—tried to reach him—and nothing happened.

Adam

I forgot about Adam and Kenji. Brendan and Winston. Sonya and Sara, who brought me back to life. Everyone.

The moment I woke up I was so focused on all the anger and hatred that I forgot the people I care for. The people whom I love. The people whom I haven't heard from until now.

"Is he-Where is Brendan and Winston? Sonya and Sara— They saved me—Did he—"

"No," He says firmly. "Sonya and Sara... I sent them back to their—ah, rooms."

"I couldn't thank them enough for...this. For saving me."

"Ah, but I deserve some credit too, love." His lips form a tiny smile, as if this could make me forget of everything that's happening out there. It does. "I was the one who transferred their energy. I was the one who took care of you. I was the one who fed you—"

"Okay, okay." The way he's so prideful right now makes me smile a bit. _How could you do this? _A voice says inside my head. _How could you smile with him while Adam and the others might be dead by now. _But I tell it to be quiet.

I'm in no mood to talk to Warner about Adam. It brings back memories of that night, when his lips where so soft against mine and his body so warm and beautiful and and and when I called out Adam's name instead of his. Instead of Aaron.

I don't have the right to call him by his name. I am a bottle full of shame and regret and anger that I do not know which is which because they have dissolved into one.

But then he says, "Kent is still alive" and I flinch, a gasp escaping my lips. It takes me maybe forever to answer to this information, to answer what should be... Then, I think, I don't want to say what should be. I want to say what I want to.

"Okay" is all I say, so neutral and uncaring that it is him who is taken aback that I feel a pang of guilt. He expects me to cry, break down, or maybe leave this room this house this street and leap into Adam's arms. I see the slightest hint of jealousy and terror in his eyes. The slightest bit of regret for telling this. But I go on,

"Okay. I'm glad he's safe. Thank you for that, Warner." I give him a peck on the cheek, and this small gesture takes away the negative emotions in him. He smiles wider that I can see his dimples—and is that a blush?—and stands up. It's a simple gesture, a tiny detail I've never seen from him before. The way he seems embarrassed by this reminds me that he's still a 19-year-old boy. A broken 19-year-old boy.

It all feels normal that it made me wonder of what would've happened if he were just a normal boy and I were a normal girl. Impossible, I know. But if I could dream—

Everything changes when he says the next few words.

"I want you to come with me."

What?

_"What?" _

"I want you to come with me," He repeats. "Come with me to meet...my father."

My body trembles in panic. "Warner—"

"No," He interrupts. "I don't mean see him eye to eye,—he doesn't know you're still alive—I want you to come with me there. Listen to our conversation, for all I care. Just-come with me."

"W-why?"

Warner chuckles, like my question was a stupid one, but then I realize he's laughing at himself. "I'm too terrified, Juliette. I fear that all this—you, being here, in my house—is all a dream. That these past seven days that I've taken care of you was nothing. You'll still be there, fighting alongside Kent and the others. If it isn't—"

He looks me straight in the eye, and I realize that there's a new emotion in them. I realize that his walls are down, and that he's letting me see what he really feels. I do not know what to call this emotion, or emotions. Regret, hurt, passion, caring. Love. I see his love.

"Then I want you to be there simply because. I don't want to lose you, even if I don't actually have you right now. I just don't. Whether things turn chaotic or not, I want you to be there. If I am killed by my father, I want you to be the one who will see all this. I want you to be the one who I see before I die... I..."

He gulps. Breathes so slowly, heavily, that I am left silent, waiting for what he says next.

"...I want the woman I love be the last person I ever see before I die."

Everything hits me. _I want to be the friend you hopelessly fall in love with. No one has ever looked at me like you do. You destroy me... I'm so desperately in love with you._ Everything he had said before comes crashing down on me like meteors that I'm wondering why I'm still here, breathing.

I do not know what to say.

He is willing to die just as long as he knows I'm there with him.

I am left speechless and heartbroken and terrified all at once.

I want to say him no. I want to say that he won't die that I'm here that I'm not leaving him that I

That I have fallen in love with him. I do not have a reason, but I am in love with him. I am in love with Warner.

I am so so desperately in love with him.

Funny how I am using his own words right now.

"Yes" is all I say because after everything he has said, I still cannot turn my feelings into words. So I say what he truly wants. I say what _I_ want.

I say yes.

* * *

It takes me twenty minutes to dress up and disguise myself. Warner tells me to wear the same uniform his soldiers in Sector 45 wear. I don't know how he has these and why they are my size, but I do not question him. By the look of the number of badges pinned on this army coat, I bet this the uniform of one of his highest-ranking officers there. It even has a nameplate. Joseph Andrews, it says.

He then tells me that I am his "escort", following behind him like all his other men did when I was in his Sector. Then tells me to salute to any lower-ranks who salute to me, to higher-ranking officers (higher than him, I assume), and to Commander Anderson. "Stay silent," he tells me before we step onto the truck that will usher us to the airport (where the private jet awaits). "Don't say a word, especially to him. Let me do all the talking."

"Good luck." I tell him as we board into the plane.

"Good luck." He says, and I see him leaning down to kiss me, but he doesn't, which leaves me disappointed and wanting to just kiss him right now. He is only inches away from me that I _could_ kiss him, and we can forget about meeting Anderson. Too bad there are more than thirty soldiers surrounding us right now.

Instead, I let myself drown in my own thoughts. I am all alone in this world of mine, and Warner is farther from me than he seems to be. The whole flight I kept reassuring myself:

He is only doing this so no one would know. He is doing this for me.

We land at exactly 2:47 P.M., thirty minutes after we left. All the soldiers file into a single line outside the plane. Warner stands, and immediately I follow him. But for a second he holds my hand and squeezes it reassuringly. I squeeze back.

The tower in front of me takes my breath away that if I wasn't acting as an officer, I would be gaping at the view. _No time admiring the tower,_ I remind myself. _I need to focus. _

It seems like a lifetime before we reach the receptionist, who escorts us to the elevators. She mutters something into her ear piece. _Commander, your son, the leader of Sector 45, has arrived. Yes, sir. He will be there in three minutes, sir. Yes, thank you. _Then she stops, ending the conversation.

"Room 1-A" is all she says before she leaves the two of us alone. Warner presses the red button (above all of the other blue buttons) and my body becomes light as we rise. I look at Warner so closely that I wonder why even now, despite the circumstances, he still looks as beautiful as ever. He is beauty inside and out and I am helpless and I want him. All of him.

Warner notices me staring at him, and he stares back in admiration, sending an electric current through me that makes me feel numb everywhere that I am wondering why I am still not a melting into a puddle on the ground. He grins before turning his back to me, facing the elevator doors.

"Don't worry, love." He whispers. "I'll protect you."

There is silence for a few seconds before the doors open. I am wondering then, as we walk to the narrow hallway, if he heard me say the words or if it was all inside my head.

I love you.

The moment we stop in front of room 1-A, I am somehow regretting this decision. Not because I went with him, but because I let him go to this. To meet his father, who killed me a few days ago. Warner opens the brass knob so slowly that it gives me time to catch my breath and prepare myself for the worse. Like knives, or an army of soldiers, or a gunshot.

None of them happens.

Instead, I see a spacious room with its walls painted in clean white and a long rectangular table in the center, along with eight chairs, the two placed on either ends.

And there, on the far end of the table, sits Anderson. Warner's father. The Commander of the Reestablishment. _The man who shot me._ Gladly, he doesn't even spare a glance at me. Only at his son.

Anderson rises from his chair, a grin on his face (I couldn't tell whether it's fake or not—this is ridiculous). "Ah, my son," he says. "it is great to see you again after everything that has happened. How is she?"

I can see Warner's jaw tense, yet his emotions are impassive. Locked inside a box that could only be opened by its master. "Dead." He says firmly. And then Anderson

laughs

a sound so hollow and terrifying that it bounces on the walls of the room. Now I wonder why the whole room is white while the man in front of us isn't; he is red—the color of blood. Blood of the thousands of people he has killed. He doesn't even deserve to wear white.

"Great! Finally my stupid son doesn't need any more distractions." He shakes his head, still amused. "Yet she could've been a great weapon to us. She could've kept quiet and chose you instead of that filthy traitor-soldier of yours—what did she see in him that he did not see in my boy?" He laughs again—but then the subject changes and both men are deep in conversation about reports, missions, operations.

It was a rhetorical question, but even if it wasn't I couldn't answer that. I don't know what disturbs me, the fact that he called his own son a filthy traitor, or that I could not explain what I did see in Adam. I don't know

and at the same time I do.

He was

the first guy who never ran away from me

the guy who always saw me

who helped me escape

_loved me_

And yet... I am unsure of myself.

Why did he just stand there at that time, waiting, watching. He could've helped. He could've done something. Why didn't he?

He saw me... He saw me as Juliette. Warner did too.

Helped me escape from Warner...

Did he really, though?

I don't know I don't know I don't and I can't take this anymore.

I need to breathe.

"Sir," I interrupt. Warner turns to me, Anderson not even bothering to _breathe_ in my direction. Luckily, his father can't see anything. The worry laced in Warner's expression makes my heart jump, just a little, before it settles down.

"What is it, Andrews?" He feigns irritation, crossing his arms. Think fast, Juliette. Think—

I got it.

"Delalieu reported not less than a few seconds ago that there are a group of men waiting for you." I cover my right ear with two fingers, as if I have an ear piece. "A meeting, sir, for your operation. He says that they will wait for one more hour, and if you do not arrive by then, the meeting is cancelled. They will not find another time schedule for you until next year if you do so, which will postpone the operation."

Thanks to the slightest form of a smile on Warner's lips, I did excellent.

"Tell him I'll be there before four," he says, then turns to his father. "What is the reason why you wanted me here?" There's a hint of urgency in his voice, and I'm not sure if it's part of his act or not. Anderson does hear it.

"We will have to postpone this meeting, then." He takes slow steps forward, his leather shoes making thump thump thump sounds on the wooden floor. When he faces Warner, he says, "I will need a full report of your meeting by Monday. If you'll excuse me, I must go. I still have other things to attend to." He looks at me with amusement for the quickest second, turns, and slams the door shut; I feel the atmosphere in the room lighten. I release my breath. Finally.

Seconds pass before Warner turns to me, smiling. His smile is so goofy and care-free that it feels refreshing to the eyes. Then he moves past me, only to press a few switches beside the door. "Shuts off the camera and makes the room sound-proof." He explains. And in that moment I feel like I just felt lighter.

I realized Warner is carrying me, his arms tight around my waist. He spins a few times before putting me on top of the table, his hands cupping my jaw.

"Love, you are brilliant. So brilliant." He coos. "God, Juliette... How did you even come up with that? And remember Delalieu?"

"I'm not the only one observing things while I was in your Sector. It's nothing, really." I add a shrug to that, but this only makes his smile widen that it shows his dimples.

"You are amazing. I'm so sorry you had to hear that, love."

"I don't mind. I just... I guess I freaked out with where this conversation might end."

"Which is?"

"You. Dead."

His smile falters. "I'm sorry I had to put that in your head; I didn't know what would transpire here. I'm just... I'm sorry." He takes off the hat I'm wearing, my hair spilling down on my shoulders. He pulls me into an embrace, his arms so carefully placed on my waist that I wonder if he's still afraid of touching me. Afraid not because of my powers but because he thinks I am fragile. I accept his touch, wrapping my arms around him so tight, so the opposite of how he holds me, because I feel like _he_ is the one who might disappear.

I need to hold on tight. I need him.

"I'm tired of losing people," I whisper into his ear. He shivers. "I've lost too much and gained none. I don't want to lose the people I love anymore. I don't want to lose you." He groans in response, holding me tighter now, breathing deeper now. And so am I.

"Say that again." He says, his voice low and husky that it makes my heart go faster. I wonder if he could feel it, too.

"I don't want to lose the people I love anymore." I repeat. "I don't want to lose you..." He knows I am not finished, so he keeps quiet. I inhale.

"...I love you, Aaron."

Everything happens so fast that I do not know where to start.

He is kissing me so deeply that I could no longer hear my own thoughts. All I can think of is him, his mouth, his love. I feel so many things. Butterflies in my stomach could not even describe it because right now I feel the whole zoo in my stomach.

I've been waiting for this for so long. I've always wanted this since that night. He's like a drug. Addicting. So so addicting.

He presses himself closer against me, his weight slowly making me lay back on the cool table. His hands are everywhere, and with every gentle touch the words he once told me echoed in my mind. _I want you. I want all of you. _

I want him. All of him.

I haven't realized that my coat has already disappeared, thrown away to some part of the room that I do not care about. His hands are inside my undershirt, trailing up to touch my bare stomach, giving warmth to where his palm lays. My whole body shivers.

"I... You are so beautiful..." He breathes. "Juliette, I-"

"Shut up." I mutter against his lips. He does, and kisses me again. This time, it goes lighter, slower. He's torturing me and he knows it. Despite all this, I still savor the taste of him. He tastes like mint, a little spicy and delicious. Definitely delicious.

We pull away, gasping for oxygen. My hands roam from his back to the tie he's wearing. I slightly tug on it until he's kissing me again.

"Juliette," he whispers after we finally manage to pull apart. The last time we kissed it was in the dark, but now, seeing him so clearly, I gasp. His hair disheveled, his suit all ruined, his face flush. _He's still so beautiful. _

"I don't know what to say." Aaron Warner, speechless, for the first time.

"How about a reply?" I say lightly, still staring at his figure with admiration.

He chuckles. "You already know how I feel, love. I never hid that from you."

"Say it." I command, placing my arms around his neck. I pull him closer. "Tell me you love me."

"I love you." He says, nuzzling my neck. "I love you, I love you, _I love you_. It feels so good saying that without being shot." This brings back so many memories that I don't want to remember, so I smile instead.

"I love you too, Aaron." A soft groan vibrates against my skin.

"Aaron, Aaron, Aaron." I croon, his name sounding like a lullaby on my lips. A secret prayer. A prayer I never want to tell anyone.

_"Aaron."_ I whisper one last time before he brings his face to mine again.

* * *

When I check my watch it's already 3:23 PM. I've already pulled my hair inside my hat and buttoned my coat (which was on the other side of the table. How it got there I will never find out) and Warner's still fixing his stupid tie, but I'm really fine with his hair being a mess. Adonis would be a shame if he stood beside this boy. He is too sexy, too mouth-wateringly beautiful that I involuntarily lick my lips.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

I look up at him, smile, shake my head. "You're just...perfect, that's all."

He raises a brow. "Perfect?"

"Yeah. Handsome, sexy, beautiful, brilliant... Perfect. Just so perfect."

"Ah, but I'm far from perfect, remember?" I know he's talking about when I shot him, the day I escaped with Adam. That was his imperfection. His imperfection—his weakness—was me.

"No, I don't." I say, then give him a swift peck on the cheek. "Let's go. I'm not very fond of this place."

Warner—Aaron turns to the wooden table. "I'm quite fond of this room, though. Best memory ever, if you ask me."

"You can make more when we get out of this place." With that, he then agrees.

Before we leave the room, he steals one quick kiss on my lips before letting his facade come back up.

After we return to his house, everything, even the atmosphere, feels different. We spent the whole day doing nothing, actually. Warner would sit on his desk and type his "report on the meeting" in the computer while I would just watch him or get lost in my own world. Sometimes, when he takes a break from his work, we play around a little. It was just... amazing, being with him like it's normal. Like everything was normal.

We talked, we laughed, we lived. And I wouldn't want it any other way.

I couldn't remember a day in my life where everything around me wasn't chaotic—where everyone I touched didn't die.

Hours passed between us until I had already fallen asleep from watching him all night. I was still slightly conscious when Aaron had covered me with a blanket and kissed me goodnight.

Sometime that night I woke up from a horrible nightmare. It's the same one I've been having since last week; Anderson talking to me, Anderson shooting me, Anderson watching my body crumble into dust. He just stands there and watches me, his eyes glistening with amusement.

I try to catch my breath. Immediately I feel the person beside me stir. He winces a little from the head ache he gets from just waking up and I somehow feel bad for him. He probably only got to bed not less than a few minutes ago.

But right now I cannot apologize for that. I have realized something that I should have noticed before. Something I should have taken note of.

"Juliette," Warner says hoarsely, pulling me into his arms. He gently brushes away the hair on my sweat-slicked forehead and kisses the top of my head. "What is it?"

"I—I realized something. In the office. With y-your father—"

That seems to wake him up. So I continue,

"He knows who I am."

"Ridiculous," He snaps. I flinch from the loudness of his voice and his body tenses a bit. "He doesn't. He didn't even look in your direction."

I know he didn't, he didn't even breathe in my direction. But I know it. I know that he recognizes me. I decided not to rush things so I told him the possibilities of it, implying that I _think_ he does.

"The surveillance cameras in the elevator. He could've seen my face. He could've seen..." Seen me say "I love you".

"But he couldn't; he doesn't take his time in looking at surveillances unless it involves something worth his interest."

"The boardroom—"

"He doesn't either, and I swear to God he doesn't let anyone actually re-watch the videos at all if it involves him in a private meeting with his son."

And that's the key word:

private.

I guess Warner finally understood what I meant because the second everything dawns on him, the blood drains from his face.

"He doesn't let anyone, excluding important people, see him." I explain finally. "He doesn't let anyone know who Anderson is. He called you son, Aaron. He called you son _in front of me—_a "nobody" officer...

He knows it's me."

* * *

**I will be posting the second chapter sometime in June.**

**And have you guys seen TM's tweet? ("Idek why her touch is lethal anymore i think maybe she just had really bad indigestion")... I can agree with her on that, actually.**


	2. Chapter 2: Adam

_**Ignite Me**_

_**Chapter 2 "Adam"**_

Anderson knows I'm alive.

He knows that I've been staying in Warner—Aaron's room.

_He knows it_

and I don't know how I only found this out now.

It's been two days since I told Aaron about this, about his father knowing that I'm still alive and I don't know what to do next I just don't.

Since it's still 1P.M. Aaron is still at Sector 45, doing God-knows-what. Sometimes I try to ignore the fact that I miss him by doing things like chores, or watching TV, or thinking about Anderson. Yes, I think about him, I think about what he would do if we meet again, if he would kill me, because somehow just thinking about my hate for him makes me forget the fact that there's a possibility I'll never see Aaron again. And now, after finally admitting what I felt for him, I did everything I can to show him that my love for him was _real_.

I had to prove to him that it wasn't because he saved me. It was because... I don't know.

I just fell in love with him in a way that I don't even know how it begun, when it begun and why. Sometimes I feel like this is all impossible, but then I think, _No, it isn't. You are not going to do this again to yourself. _So I didn't.

But I know that he still thinks that this, what I feel about him, is impossible. An illusion. "I really did have delusions about you when you were gone," he said, "I was close to locking myself up for seeing things that are never there. That will never be there..." My heart was close to tears with the way he said it.

So I did the only thing I could think of.

I called him by his name.

Aaron.

Every time those words come out from me, all the worry and the fear is gone from his face. His name has become the key to unlocking him, to breaking down the walls he built. His name is another form of the words "You're forgiven", and if he didn't think of it as that, then at least I do.

The sudden bang from the door brings me out of my daydream, and when I turn to look at the cause of it, whatever it is that I dreamt of has been erased from my mind from the sight of the handsome boy standing in front of me. He's wearing a blue button-down shirt with dark slacks, and his hair a sexy mess.

A second later he catches me staring and a sexy smirk appears on his kissable lips. My heart skipped.

"Where are you going?"

His playful grin falters, his brows creasing and his lips thinning into a grim line. "I have a meeting with my supervisors. They're the ones who guide me in my operation, tells me the pros and cons and all that." He explains before fixing the cuffs of his sleeves.

For a second I thought he was going to meet his father. I sighed with relief and move closer toward him and snake my arms around his neck. He stops fixing and instinctively places his hands on my waist, pulling me closer against him.

"I won't be gone long." He says it as if he's giving an idea when he gets home. I like his idea.

"It's going to be boring without you." I mumble against his neck.

He groans and pulls me tighter—as if we weren't close enough—until I could feel the erratic beating of his heart against my chest. "Four hours. Just four hours."

I nod slightly as I trail kisses up from his neck and nibble on his ear, my breath, I realize, turning into short gasps. Slowly, his hand snakes inside the loose shirt I'm wearing and gently caresses my back, the heat of his palm sending shivers down my spine. His breaths have become as ragged and as sharp as mine, and a small smile plays on my lips. Sometimes I'm amazed at how I could make this boy, whose emotions are so hidden from everyone else, look so breathless and vulnerable.

"Three hours." He corrects himself, desperation and longing laced in his husky voice. "I'll tell them that I have other things—_important things_—to take care of after."

I gently bite his ear, only to lick the bitten spot. Aaron shudders and groans, his fingers firmly digging into my back. He curses.

"_Two hours_, goddamnit—two hours, love. _Juliette_—" He pulls my body away from his, much to my disappointment, only to lock his eyes with mine, searching for my approval. I can see the hunger and desire and passion burning in his green orbs. The way he looks at me makes my body feel as if I'm the only thing he could see, breathe, love right now that I want to drown in his eyes.

His right hand cups my jaw, his thumb caressing my burning cheeks and quickly pulls me into a greedy kiss. Then I'm forgetting what we were talking about and what I've been thinking and I can't even remember my own name anymore; every thought, every word, everything everything is now gone like smoke because all I can think all I can feel is his lips on mine and his body flush with mine as we're slowly melting into each other. My thoughts have scattered everywhere like dust and he and his lips are to blame.

Seconds later my body gives in and we both collapse on the bed, him on top of me, none of us pulling away. He brushes my bottom lip with his tongue, asking for entrance, and then I want to say that he doesn't need to ask, that I am already his—wholly and completely his—but then I think, _If I do tell him then I'll have to break contact_. So I don't and give him access. A moan escapes my lips as his tongue passionately dances with mine in a perfect rhythm. Every brush of his fingers on my skin feels so hot that I might burst into flames.

He's still so scared of touching me, he's still holding me like I'm glass. Like I might break again and I just don't know how he can think of that because I'm not breaking; I'm glowing under his touch. He is what holds me up and keeps me together, I realize. He is the reason I am still alive and he is the reason I am still here. Then a thought occurs to me that I will still be here, by his side, until he gets tired of me.

For what seems like hours we pull back, gasping for oxygen. Aaron collapses next to me, and I rest my head on his chest and close my eyes as I listen to his heartbeat. He strokes my hair and kisses the top of my head.

"Two hours." I could hear the smile in his voice. I pull myself up so that I'm facing him, but I am easily distracted by how handsome he is despite his disheveled state. He's still so so perfect in ways that make me think that God must have played a trick on this boy—made him so perfect on the outside, but made his whole life a living hell.

Aaron raises his hand in front of him and checks the time on his watch. "Shit," he mutters. "I'm late." He heaves himself up and off the bed and starts to fix his rumpled shirt. A giggle escapes my lips and he gives me a pointed look before breaking into a huge grin. Oh my God his dimples.

A moment later, he turns to me and says, "How do I look?"

"Like a guy who just had a steamy make out session—_what? I was kidding!_ You look perfect, Aaron." I say. "But what if they ask you why you were late?"

He waves his hand nonchalantly, as if dismissing the thought of them asking. Of course, even if they still supervised him, he was still a man of higher ranks. "I'll tell them I got distracted and lost track of the time." He says anyway, then leans down and quickly gives me a peck on the lips. "Wish me luck."

"You don't need it." He really didn't.

Before he closes the door, he turns to me for the last time, love and understanding burning in his eyes as he says, "I know."

Half an hour after Aaron has left I decided that I should at least go out for a while and take a walk. I've spent nine days inside this house doing nothing but clean the house and adore Aaron. So I change into a pair of jeans, a black shirt—Aaron's shirt—and a black leather jacket (don't ask me how I got my undergarments. Okay, okay, he bought them. I really don't understand how a nineteen-year-old boy can just casually buy underwear. I might ask him about what happened one day).

Before I leave the house, I snatch the keys he left in the drawer and placed a note, just in case I won't be back before he arrives. But then I think, _No, I wouldn't be out long. I shouldn't. _

I stuff my hands inside the jacket's pockets as I take slow and careful steps outside. Somehow I thought today wouldn't be much of a difference being outside, I've been outside plenty of times. But the moment I see no one, I start to worry. _No. This is good. This means I won't have to worry about touching anyone. _

Because now that I'm out of the house, I'm no longer normal.

I keep walking as I tell myself that I'm being a paranoid...

_Aaron's not here. _

I keep walking

_I can kill. _

Walking walking running running

_I'm a monster._

That's when everything dawns on me and slowly I start to break. My heart's beating erratically and I don't know where I am now I can't see anyone or anything still someone please I can't breathe-

"No," I mutter, clutching my chest. Calm down. "Don't do this to yourself. Don't do this. Aaron is—"

"Juliette?"

My heart stops at the sound of that familiar voice. I could feel the color draining from my face, then I'm thinking that this isn't real. I'm hallucinating, desperate to find someone to talk to me to prevent me from panic.

My thoughts are betraying me.

But then, as I slowly turn to where the voice came from, I know this isn't an illusion. My arms go limp as they fall to my sides. Then I say whisper his name, terror and surprise clouding my eyes.

"..._Adam_."

What is he doing here? I'm not particularly in a good mood to see him and this is just—

"Juliette," He says it like my name is so new to his lips; like he's never said it before. Then slowly walking towards me and I don't know what to do because my feet are glued to the ground. "It's you. You're alive. Where have you been?"

I take a tentative step back, but urge myself to stop. "Yeah," I choke out. "Here and there... How are you Adam?" He halts in front of me and gives me a look like I'm crazy. I really am.

"How am I ?" He scoffs. "We thought you were dead and you're asking me how I am? I've been losing my mind, Juliette. I don't know where you were and what happened and I just—I've been so lost."

When he slowly raises his hand out to touch me, I flinch and take a step back. He looks at me with concern and sadness before realizing what I was trying to do. "It's okay," He says reassuringly. "I've been training. I've gotten really good at it." But something about the way I looked at him must've discouraged him because he just sighed and dropped his arms to his side.

As silence consumes the space between us, I try to push down the thought of running away and going back to Aaron's house away from my head. I don't want Adam to see the sudden change in me—and know that he wasn't the one who caused it.

Everything feels wrong somehow. I know I should be happy, he knows it, but I'm not. I try to muster the courage to say something, anything, then he asks me

"Where have you been?"

I look at him distantly, my voice raw and emotionless as I say, "I've been staying in an abandoned house." Somehow what I am saying is true. No one used to live there, Aaron told me, until I got shot. His real house was closer to Sector 45.

"A house? You mean you've been hiding for nine days and seven hours and you never even bothered to look for us?" Whoa, seven hours?

"I'm sorry—"

"I've been insane without knowing where you are! Whether you're still alive. I even thought you were..." He trails off. Coughs. "Kenji and the others kept looking for you, Juliette."

"Where are they now?"

Adam rubs his forehead. "Omega Point," He mutters. "_He_ decided to call off the war hours after we lost you." _After he shot me_, I want to add. _After he almost killed me. Almost._

Then the silence returns. In that moment I take advantage and think. But then, what do I think about? Aaron will be back in an hour and I'm not sure if I'm comfortable about telling everyone where I was. Kenji's familiar with Aaron's house; he's seen me go there before, Adam with us.

I snap back into reality when Adam calls my name for the second time, I realize. He moves closer until we're only inches away, his hand twitching. He wants to hold me. _But I don't... I don't want anyone to touch me. _

"So what were you saying before? You said _'Aaron is—_'" He adds when he notices the blank look on my face.

"Aaron's just... a dog." The man I love. "I was looking for him because he ran away." He was gone half an hour ago. "I found him inside abandoned house, see." We lived in his house for the past nine days. _Oh, and, yeah, Anderson shot me nine days ago before he surrendered. _

He nods slowly. "Do you want me to help find him before we go?"

Wait, _what._

"Go?" I mouth. "Go where?"

"Back to Omega Point." But I don't want to. "Everyone's been looking for you, Juliette. We need you—_I_ need you."

I want to say yes I do, I want to go with you and see everyone else, but something stops me. Warner comes into my mind, causing my heart to change its mind. _He'll think you'll leave him again_, it's telling me. _He'll think that you don't love him anymore and you disappeared, or maybe even died. Do you want that, Juliette?_

No, I don't.

"Aaron—" The words slip out of my tongue accidentally, making me cringe. Luckily, Adam interrupts me.

"We can look for him together if you want." There's a twinge of hope in the sound of his voice and his eyes. Hope that's trying not to fade away."But why look for someone else's dog? Is he really that important?"

I don't know I don't know because that dog doesn't exist, because Aaron's actually your brother, and yes, he's really that important. Suddenly, I had an idea: I could run back to the house. I can leave him a message and tell him I'm going to Omega Point. But if I Adam comes with me, he'll find out that I've been lying to him. We've been to his house once, and it wasn't the most welcoming visit—because the twisted man who is Aaron's father is also Adam's father. So I tell him

"Stay here."

He slightly tilts his head in surprise and confusion, his lips forming a little disappointed frown. The old Juliette would've desperately told him to come along. The old Juliette would've thought he looked so handsome doing that; I would've jumped into his arms and desperately kiss him. Now, I just want to laugh. _That girl is gone now. And I don't want to see her again. __She's too weak too helpless too lost and even if I've grown attached to her, I am glad she is gone. _

"Stay here and wait for me. I'll look for Aaron. I'll be back in five minutes...and if I don't find him we're going. Okay?" Say okay say okay say okay.

"I..." Pause. Sigh. Nod. "Okay. I'll wait here."

I slightly bow my head as a sign of gratitude. "I'll be back." Turning on my heel, I start to run to where I came from. But when Adam calls my name, I stop mid-run, turning to the boy who is now too far for me to reach. He's always been too far for me to reach.

"You've changed a lot." Adam smiles at that, as if my 'change' was a good thing. The thought of me changing seems impossible. For the better or for the worse? I want to ask him. Maybe it's both.

My laughter sounds so foreign, so hollow and empty, just like when Anderson laughed when he heard about my death. I feel so horrible. But I guess he doesn't hear it, because he's already turning around and walking to one of the house's porch.

"I know," I whisper as I turn away again. No matter how much I want him to hear it, I feel as if these words are something I can never tell to anyone. It's a secret that only I know."You don't even know who I am anymore."

One minute and thirty-one seconds later, I'm facing the front door of the Anderson(-Warner) house. I feel like knocking, to see if anyone is there; maybe Aaron's already there and he's panicking right now, wondering where I went. Or maybe Anderson, sitting as he waits for my presence for the third time. I can see him smiling, I can see him angry, I can see him holding a gun.

But when I open the door, none of these happen. The house looks so empty and abandoned without anyone inhabiting it. My heart sinks at the thought of Aaron returning to his childhood house, only to find that the other person he's residing with is gone. It makes me wonder if he feelt the same emptiness as a child whenever he got home, which made me realize that I know nothing about the mysterious leader of Sector 45. The white walls make everything look so dull and colorless, unfitting to everything in this house. Your perspective of things change whenever you try to look at them in a different view. White white white.

I have at least three minutes more before I should go, so I rush upstairs and grab the pad paper and pen atop of Aaron's study table. My writing is too shaky; it's been so so long since I last wrote. So I dismiss the thought of writing in calligraphy and instead write in print letters. The pen feels like it's going to slip away from my hands as I start to write.

_Warner_

I cross it out.

_Aaron,_

_I'm going to Omega Point with Adam. I saw him today while talking a walk outside, and he told me to go with him. Please understand, I want to see Kenji and the others. I want to know how they've been and how much has changed. I also heard that your father canceled the war. Did you know that?_

_I'll be back as soon as I can... And if I'm not yet home by four, try to find a way to contact me. I'll try to find a way to escape.  
_

_I_

I cross the letter out. Too straight, I think. Too shaky. I write again and again and cross it out again and again until I have finally written in perfect calligraphy:

_I love you._

Somehow there's something intimate about writing these words on paper. Or maybe it's just me. Maybe it's because I have confided myself in paper and ink that I started to think that these words I've written will come to life. That these things contain the emotion and the feelings of the writer. I want to believe it does.

When I get back to where I left Adam, I see him pacing around, a walkie-talkie on his hand. He's talking to someone. I couldn't make out what he's saying but his voice sounds neutral and emotionless that I am left wondering who he's talking to. He sees me and says something again to his friend before clicking it off.

"I'm ready." I tell him. "Let's go."

His eyes catch the gloves on my hands, smiles, and walks to the street that leads to Omega Point, me following behind.

* * *

**Someone kill me. **

**This wasn't how this chapter was supposed to end. **

**I'm so sorry. **

**I'm a failure.**

**Pls leave a review. -goes to the corner and cries-**

**~KSPotato/the-warner-syndrome**


	3. Chapter 3: He Was Forgiven

_**Ignite Me **_

**_Chapter 3: "He Was Forgiven, She Was Understood" _**

During the walk to Omega Point, thoughts of how Warner would react to my leaving filled my head that I didn't realize that we were already here. I remembered Adam asking me if I was okay, and I remembered telling him yes, my voice empty and my mind distant. Which only gained the attention of the boy walking in front of me, asking me what was wrong.

_Everything._"Just nervous and worried." _I really am the least of your worries—you won't even look at me once I tell you where I was._ "It just felt so long since I left that maybe I wouldn't be familiar with—everything and everyone anymore." That was the truth, of course.

He laughed at that and told me: "Nothing changed, really. Except that things have felt... empty lately." And I needn't ask twice to know what—or who—he was pertaining to.

But it wasn't true. Something did change in Adam. There's some sort of determination in his voice when he speaks. His hair has gotten longer, but in a way that it's unnoticeable unless you look closely, and he hasn't shaved for days maybe. His eyes, those blue eyes have turned into a darker shade, as if something had cleared in them. There's something in him that made him look as if he saw the light and finally escaped the darkness that is his fears.

Yet I could also see the way his shoulders tense after every five minutes, the shadows under his eyes. The jaw that works through every silence that pass us. The twitch in his hands, as if he wants to reach out for mine, but telling his hand to return to his side. I could feel how tired he is and I want to ask him why he's doing this. What's he been going through and why he looks like hell. But I don't because I know the answers to those things; I just want to hear him his answer his voice because the silence is killing me.

Abruptly, he halts. I bump into him and mutter an apology and move to stand by his side. The building is no different from when I last saw it. You'd think of it as just a small shop—a restaurant or a wide house—but the truth is that the real place is hidden underground, where no one would suspect that there are people down there who have gifts that are unimaginable.

Omega Point.

Adam reaches for the doors, but they swing open even before his skin touches the metal bars and almost hit him in the face if it wasn't for his quick reflexes. Adam swears under his breath, surprised and angered. The invisible person who pulled the prank laughs.

My mouth escapes a startled gasp when Kenji suddenly flashes in front of me, hands inside his jeans pockets, lips tugged into a smug grin. I was close to touching him when I jerked back. You're not at Aaron's, I remind myself. Everyone you ever knew and loved—except for him—can't touch you.

Kenji's laughter subsides when he sees the color drain my face, raising his hands up, and steps back a little. "I was just giving Kent a surprise, since he's been looking so down." His eyes quickly shift to Adam's direction, before returning to mine. "But then I saw you and decided to give a surprise too. Sorry—I forgot about the whole can't-touch-me thing."

"You better be." I mutter under my breath.

"Who made you act as moody as the other guy?" He jokes, moving to Adam's left. "Glad you're back though. Kent here has been sulking for a week, isn't eating well, training everyday. He doesn't when scold me for getting naked—"

"Okay, okay." Adam says, a light color heating his cheeks. My heart jumps a little at the sight of him, embarrassed. He's been training everyday just for my sake—just so he could hold me again. I want to thank him, hug him, hold him. I don't.

"So where are we going?" I ask no one in particular as we walk through the wide hallway. Some people in the halls are whispering and looking at me, some of their words I can make out: _It's her. Juliette Ferrars. The girl with the deadly touch. Where did she disappear to? _But I couldn't I wouldn't look at them right now. I'm keeping my head up and my eyes straight, and, for once, I don't mind what they're saying about me.

"To meet Castle." Adam answers. We turn left. A boy, maybe ten years old, is smiling and waving at us.

"He's waving at you." He whispers in my ear, sending a shiver through my spine. I ignore the feeling and wave back. The boy's smile widens and he darts off into what I think is his room.

Weird. "What's that about?"

Kenji snorts. "You don't know? After your heroic acts everyone's looking up to you now. You're a hero now after what happened."

"After what's happened?"

"You'll find out. First," He says. "We have to announce the return of the Prodigal Son to Castle." I could tell he's joking, but I don't understand what it means or if it's from a book. I'm spared from making a comeback or laughing because the three of us stop in front of a large door with a plaque hanging above, engraved with the words Castle's doors are tinted. Something like a shadow moves in front of us — A soldier? Castle? — from the other side of the door pushes a button on the wall that automatically opens the door. The soldier salutes to Adam and Kenji, who returns the gesture, and smiles at me when my eyes meet his. Adam grunts.

When we sit down the white chairs while waiting for Castle—"He will arrive in a few minutes." The soldier said— Kenji starts. "So how was your trip to nowhere land? Where were you anyway?"

"I've been—staying in this abandoned house." Lie. "They had this dog named Aaron. Then Adam found me while I was roaming the streets. And—" I don't know why I'm saying this much.

He continues asking me a serious of questions—that were answered with a mix of truth and lies—when I realize that Adam's moving his hand to touch mine, to hold mine.

It's a mistake for me to slip my fingers between his and think of Warner at the same time. I could feel the softness of his palm, the heat of his skin. I want to place his hand on my cheek and melt in his touch, replace cold air surrounding me. But then I realize this isn't Aaron's hand and this just too wrong too wrong I don't know what's right and wrong anymore. What will they do if they find out what happened to me? What will happen to Warner? Does Castle know about it already? Involuntarily, I squeeze Adam's hand. He looks at me through the corner of his eyes and smiles encouragingly.

72 seconds later the door in front of us opens and Castle enters the room in quick but graceful strides, hands behind him. His usually combed haired is disheveled, his clothes are rumpled. There's an unusual weight that makes his shoulder slouch and dark shadows under his eyes that I've never seen before. I know he's a guy who's close to reaching his fifties, but I have never seen him look so tired and old until today.

Castle settles himself on the large black armchair and exhales. "It's been more than a week since your disappearance, Ms. Ferrars." I nod. "We've tried to track you down, find any clues about your location. The two men were the last to see you"—He gestures to Kenji, who looks as if he hadn't heard his name, and Adam, who is looking at me with an intensity that makes me squirm in my seat—" taken away by them, by Anderson's men. If my assumptions were correct, you would've been imprisoned or dead by now if they really had captured you. So tell me, Ms. Ferrars, what really happened."

_I won't tell you. If I do you'll hate me. But then, I don't care. _I want to tell him everything; about Anderson, how I was shot, Aaron saving me, Sonya and Sara healing me. I want to tell someone anyone what I want to say, but I tell myself Castle isn't the best candidate for spilling secrets. I may be brave enough to look Castle straight in the eye, but not enough. Never enough.

"Escaped," I choke out. "I escaped from..." My eyes closed themselves before I could say more. I was thinking of more words to come out, but, with no more imagination left in me, I switch to a different plan. Tears start to form and slip away from my eyes as I tell myself to imagine destruction, to remember how Anderson had shot me, the desperation in Aaron's face when he revived me. But only one thing worked; a memory from my past.

_"You're a monster. You're not our daughter. Get away from us! GET AWAY!" _

A pair of hands are holding me, pulling me out of the horrible memory. Adam's pulling me against him, preventing me from falling off my seat. His brows are furrowed, worry laced in his expression. I want to push him away, to tell him not to touch me, to get away. But I'm too tired for this.

"I'm okay," I tell Adam with a reassuring smile, which convinces him to move back to where he stood. My attention turns to Castle. "What else should I say? They took me to their house—yes, the one we went to before—and had me meet the supreme. He almost shot me, you know? But I was able to escape and find refuge somewhere else." I have never sounded so strong and brave in my life, even I think that I could believe that these lies are so real.

He nods once and clears his throat. "As much as I'd like to ask you more questions, I would want you to rest. And get a change of clothes." He eyes what I'm wearing and I squirm uncomfortably on my seat. He wouldn't ask where I got this from, right? He wouldn't think that I got this from Aaron and that he really took care of me—

I'm becoming paranoid.

"I do have some good news for you." Castle went on. "The war ended days after. Anderson claimed surrender a day after. But we know that he isn't done with us yet, and that there will be another battle to face. For him to stop something like this was unfathomable, but for whatever reason it is, we were glad for the interruption."

So he _did_ end the war. But Castle was right— it isn't finished yet; he's only just begun. His plan of using me as a weapon might be abandoned, but I know that since he knows now about Castle and Omega Point, he will stop at nothing to destroy us—destroy anything in his way. But whether he does know that I'm still alive or not, I will not let him do this.

"But there's more. After he had declared surrender, Winston and Brendan were found lying in front of Omega Point, unconscious."

Winston and Brendan. For a second, every negative feeling evaporates and I'm relieved they were freed. "Where are they?" I ask, hopeful. "They're not—they're not—are they—"

"No, no." He replied quickly. "But they were badly injured. Tortured, maybe. They haven't woken since, but both are still breathing and recovering. Also Sonya and Sara—"

My eyes widen. _They're here, too?_

Sonya and Sara were the ones who saved me from almost dying. They know that Aaron was the one who asked for help, that I was in Aaron's house all along. "They're here?" I whisper.

He nods. "A day before the other two were found. They said they had found a way to escape from the army's hands but wouldn't tell us how. Traumatized, maybe. They said that they need to talk to you," His eyes lock with mine and an unknown emotion flickers in them. "to the person who freed them. Is it true, Juliette?"

Juliette. He called me by my first name. "Yes," I say, my body trembling. "Yes, I did."

Suddenly there was a loud crash and a low groan. The three of us turn to Kenji, sitting beside Adam, who has fallen off his seat and is sitting at the floor, blinking, as if he didn't know what hit him. Did he fall asleep? He looks at us with a slight confusion, as if he didn't know what happened, and scrambles to his feet, a light touch of pink on his cheeks. "Sorry." Adam starts talking to Kenji, covering his hands to prevent laughter. Which doesn't work.

"Anyways," Castle says, ignoring the two. "it would be a pleasure to know what occurred to you the past days , and hopefully with the twins too, but maybe another time." He stands up. I do the same. "Do you remember your room? You will be staying there with the twins... Unless you want to change locations?"

I shake my head so fast that I feel like my head's going to fall off. "No," I mutter. "No. Please. Thank you." We all stand up and the soldier from a while ago escorts us to the doors. Kenji tells us he's going to do some things and leaves first, but I could see the look he gave me before he left. The doubt is obvious in his features.

Adam and I continue to walk in silence as we reach my—and Sonya and Sara's—room. People who were passing by the halls stopped and looked at us, at me, and smiled. Some called my attention and muttered a thank you as I passed them. _Thank you for what, though? For saving four of their members or for starting this whole mess?_ Some of these people may not even realize that it wasn't for me—if only I didn't have this... this power—Omega Point would still be as peaceful as it was before.

But somehow I glad I did. I'm glad to have found a sort of home in Omega Point, to have made friends like Kenji and the others. And one thing I could never regret is meeting Aaron. Well, at first, when I first saw him as a power-obsessed dictator who wanted me as a weapon. But I understand now that he never wanted to do it; his father ordered him for that. He may not believe it but I know that underneath that cold and heartless exterior is a human who never wanted to hurt people, who wants to disobey the orders of his psychotic father.

When we reach the room, I thank Adam for escorting me and I walk to the door. My wrist stop me from walking further because Adam's holding it. "Wait."

I turn my to him and cock my head to the side. He flushes and lets go of my hand, albeit hesitantly, only to cup my cheeks. I want to lean in to the touch, to hold his hands and kiss them. But I'm frozen and I don't know what to do. His chest, his legs, his face is so close too close that I could feel his heat, the erratic beating of his heart against mine. My breaths have turned to pants; everything about him is so familiar.

His eyes move down to my lips and maybe he's wondering the same thing as I am. Maybe he's wondering if my lips still taste the same, if I still feel as if nothing mattered when he kissed me, if I still love him.

But one thing he isn't wondering now is that if I would push him away. I need to get away. I need to stop this but I can't—my feet are glued to the ground and my body is unmoving. _Move,_ I yell to my body. _Move move move_—

The doors behind me swings open, Sonya and Sara on the other side of it. Adam sighs, exasperated, and kisses me on the cheek instead.

"See you, Juliette." He says, still slightly breathless, before turning on his heel and walking back to where we came from, clearly annoyed at Sonya and Sara.

"Juliette." They say in unison. I turn around.

Both are looking at me with so much relief and tenderness, smiling so widely that it seems like an unfamiliar gesture to me because all I've done was terrify these two. Sonya's hair has grown, which makes it easier to know who is who. I want to hug them and thank them. I want to say so many things but all I could say is "You're here."

The two nod in unison and gesture for me to enter the room. I sit on the edge of what used to be my bed as Sonya closed the door behind her, locking it.

Seeing both of them now felt surreal. Because I can see that they never really told anything to Castle. That they're here, actually here. They're here and healthy and alive.

"Why didn't you tell Castle?"

"It isn't our story to tell." The bed groaned a little as Sara sat beside me, far enough as not to touch me. Her voice had a soft tone when she spoke, as if she understood that there are some things that are never meant to be told to others.

"How did you—Aaron didn't—"

"He," Sonya says, acknowledging Aaron. "was the one who freed us. If it weren't for him we wouldn't be here. He is a great person."

My lips parted in surprise. I could hear the forgiveness in Sonya's voice, and if it wasn't what I thought it was, at least he was understood. My Aaron. He never realized that he has done so much already.

My bottom lip quivers. I could feel the tears wanting to escape my eyes, but I tell them no, don't cry. "If it weren't for you both—" I would be dead.

"If it weren't for him." The two corrected, but it was Sara who continued. "If it wasn't for Mr. Warner then we wouldn't be able to heal you. Castle never told us about anyone, or him, having that kind of power; at first we were hesitant." She looked down at her hands which were clasped together. "We thought that it was impossible. That he was lying... But then he broke down. He was begging. Desperate, hope, anger, hurt—there was so many emotions. He was holding you so carefully, like you were fragile. We couldn't deny him, then, so we took our chances and put faith in him."

"You saw him, didn't you? " Sonya asked.

I bit my lip, nodding, as the memory flashed in my head. The way his voice broke, how he held me as if I was glass. I could never forget it. "I was close to blacking out then when he asked—"

"Begged." The two said.

I wrap my arms around myself and continued. "—And the way he was close to tears—"

"He _was_ crying."

_No... _

Time stopped the moment those three words were out. Or maybe it slowed. Because my body feels so numb that I can't feel my own heartbeat and my mind is spinning. Images of what happened suddenly filled my head, as if they were lost until Sonya mentioned them. The memory starts to recollect and I don't want to remember I want to forget again because the sight, the memory, is so painful that I could feel my heart crumbling into tiny crystals. I want to forget forget forget but it keeps coming back to me.

Warner cried

The boy who never shed any tears for the death of his solders, the boy who never showed himself to others, who calls himself a monstrous bastard, the boy who isn't any of those things— t-the boy I love cried. All because I was close to meeting death. All because of me.

"He was holding you like a baby while we transferred our power—it worked, thankfully—and he couldn't stop looking at you." I just nodded and nodded, not saying anything. I don't trust myself so I keep silent. " '_Don't die, love,_' he kept whispering to you like those words would encourage you to wake again. '_Please, please, please. I will not lose you. Not now. Please._' ..." She trailed off and bowed her head.

"He set us free after we knew you were regaining your pulse. That was the only favor he could return." Sonya looked up at me. "We owe him so much. We owe you so much." Sara nudged me lightly in the arm, a box of tissues in her hand. I was crying, I realized. I smiled at her and wiped my eyes with my jacket instead.

"You don't owe him or me anything." I tell them after seconds of silence. My voice cracks. "It's the opposite."

Sara looked like she was about to protest, but her sister spoke first. "You stayed there, with him, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"You're happy with him?" Sara asked.

"—Y-yes..."

Then, both of them: "Do you love him?"

I'm looking at the floor but I could feel the smiles on their faces. "I love him."

"That is all we need to know." Sonya says fondly. "As long as he doesn't break your heart then we are indebted to him." I want to tell them that they're not indebted to anyone, not me, not Aaron. No one. But all I say is

"He will never break my heart. He isn't who you think he is. He can change."

The two looked surprise for a minute, as if they really couldn't believe that those words just came out of my mouth. Afterwards they leave me so I can change and rest, and also because they still have to do their jobs. But before they did, they told me 2 words. 2 simple words that made me believe that Aaron really was forgiven.

"We know."

I slept soundly that night. The thought of whether Aaron read my letter or not bothered me, but somehow I felt lighter. Confronting the twins made me realize that I'm not the only one who believes in Aaron; I'm not the only one who understands how much he went through, how much he lost and never gained. I wondered if who was there to care for him when his father tortured him. Who was there to love him when he loved no one, not even himself. Who trusted him when everyone despised him.

I want to know so many things about Aaron. I want to know his past, his life. What he went through and how many percent of him was actually the cold person he told himself to be.

The problem was how I was going to get out of here.

* * *

_**A/n:**__ There's something extremely bad in this chapter that made me cry. Like, this isn't what it was supposed to end up and at the same time it was. _

_I might be posting once every two weeks instead because of school and sophomore and interaction with cute guys and ughh. I don't want to. _

_Oh, for those Allegiant fans: I was looking for some sort of excerpt in Allegiant. Instead I found this:_

_"Pride is what killed Al, and it is the flaw in every Dauntless heart. It is in mine."_

_It's so perf and emotional. (I was also searching for (Untitled) Me excerpts. Sadly, I found none. One excerpt is the boardroom table, I suppose. But what happens? Warner gets laid? Adam destroys table? Anderson has a meeting in a boardroom? IDK) _


	4. Extra: Warner's POV

**Ignite Me Extra**

**Warner's POV **

It's already been two days since she woke up, and until today she has yet decided to talk to me about. . . well, she has decided not to talk to me at all. When I tell her to eat, she eats. When she has nothing left to do she tries to organize all my belongings (and I'm not mad at her for it. My things have been unorganized lately—which is not something that normally happens to me) and when I'm not doing my work on my desk, she occupies it and writes on a writing pad I never even knew I had. She only ever talks to me when necessary and she doesn't complain with sleeping in my bed.

If I didn't know of my current ability, I would've come to believe that she has completely shut herself down with me. But I can sense something growing inside her. Fierceness and unmistakable determination. And also completely different ones.

Admiration. Regret. Forgiveness.

Whether those emotions are directed to me or not, I do not want to know. But I am hoping that it is or, at least, one of them.

Today I decided to make her bacon and scrambled eggs. And coffee. I've taken some sort of liking to coffee, yet I am still not going to rely on this useless liquid to keep me awake or replenish my energy. I simply enjoy the taste it leaves on my tongue; the bitterness.

I don't want to wake her up yet, even if I have to go soon. It's only six in the morning and I can leave in an hour later or so. I don't suppose my father would find out that his son, whom he had given a high-ranking position, would be arriving late. I am the leader of my own Sector and there are some things that he just isn't supposed to meddle with. He's already taken control of my future, I don't need him to control my life.

Minutes later, as I placed the food on the plate, I can hear a set of footfalls and, even if I didn't bother to find out who it was, I already knew.

"Why are you awake?"

"I have to go." She replies in that soft, harmless voice I've been used to. "I need to get something—"

"No, you don't." I interrupt, turning to face her now. The color on her cheeks have returned, but her cheekbones are more visible now. Sighing, I drop my façade like it's merely armor around me and rake my hand through my disheveled hair. "I don't think that's the best thing to do, Mother." Because I know exactly where she plans to go, and that is the last place I would ever want her to go to.

Even if I begged her not to go, she never listens to was my mother, Leila Warner, the wife of Supreme Commander Anderson and former Assistant Commander, the second highest rank before my father. It wasn't until years after she had me that she slowly became weaker, less attentive. At first she didn't want to tell him about it. He would scream at her, hit her, blame her for giving birth to a worthless son. I was only eight then—I knew everything because I was always forced to watch.

I had no choice. _It was to train me, to increase my level of endurance_, he said. _By hurting my own mother?_ I answered back. And that was how he started hitting me too.

When Juliette found out about the scars on my body, I knew I had to find some sort of excuse. That many of them were battle scars, not torture scars, while it was actually the other way around. She would only pity me in the end, and that is the last thing I want to receive from her. . . again.

"Aaron," she says, snapping me from my reverie. She leans her back to the wall, closes her eyes and balances herself. I try to go to her, but she raises her hands in front of me, her other one massaging her temple. "I'll be gone for just a week. I need to speak with your father."

"You don't need to," I protest, acting like I was that little boy again. That boy from 9 years ago who is already dead, crushed into pieces along with his chance of hope. Leila must have seen something in my visage that made what I was thinking obvious, because her expression grows harder, more serious. Sometimes I tend to forget that this woman is my mother. We both share the same eyes, the same hair color and the same blood. Other than those things, I look more like him. Cruel. Power-obsessed. Heartless. I am _his son_ after all.

"I can handle myself, honey. I need to go there because I have something to settle with him. He's my husband, Aaron. I married him for a reason."

I look her straight in the eye, my unsaid question hanging in the silence between us. She nods and bites her lip. I shake my head, incredulous. "Love makes people crazy."

The words someone had told me before. And that someone had become crazy, both because of love and because of the power, the control and money he has. And that fool is none other than my own father.

Leila quirks an accusing brow at me, as if saying, "_I don't think you're no different, with the girl inside your room_" and I could actually feel my cheeks heating. Of course. She was the one who had helped me change her clothes back then. She had immediately bursted out of the room when she heard my panicked voice along the hall while I carried Juliette. She was the one who saw me broke down into tears—for the first time.

They had never met before, but I noticed that in some ways they're both alike. They're both so stubborn and both willing to do anything and everything for the people they love. Even if it costs their own lives. And that's the last thing I want both of them to do.

My chest constricts at the thought. Sadly, I'm not one of those people. I never will be, and even if I am, I don't deserve it. I don't deserve her love, nor her forgiveness.

"How is she?" She tries to make an effort of changing the subject. I don't think I could have another say in the last topic, anyway.

Sighing, I walk toward the kitchen table, pulling out the chair nearest me and sitting down, my shoulders slumped. "She's not talking unless it's necessary and she rarely gets out of my room unless it's to eat. Sometimes I wonder if I've pushed her too hard that she finally broke, after holding on for so long."

I notice that her hands on either of my shoulders; it was her way of comforting me. _Just like the old times_, I think to myself. I'm slightly uncomfortable with the gesture because not too many people treat me like I'm someone who should be taken care of—like I'm human, just like them.

"She's just shocked from what happened. You have to be patient with her. Suffering for so long, being disowned by her parents, losing the ones she thought she could trust the most—it's something no one should go through. And I think you understand that the most." Of course I did. I do. I know what she's trying to say because I went through all of those things. Juliette and I are just the same, but, like everyone says, there are no two people alike. She was born to _think_ she was a monster. I was born _as _a monster.

"I have to go," Leila says. She kisses me on the top of my head and detaches herself from me. I say nothing, speechless, as she walks out of the room. Before she closes the door she says, "Oh, and Aaron."

I turn to the door and see her smiling at me. "Don't give up on her," She says. "When everything else will be disastrous, she'll need someone to rely on, and she's going to hold on to you."

"How would you know, mother?"

"Because," She pauses for a while, probably debating whether to continue or not. In the end, she does.

"I heard her saying to herself that she regrets hurting you. _'Because in the end, it's me who gets hurt too, right?' _Whatever it is that happened between you two, I can tell that your love for each other is strong enough to fix that—and by that, I mean both of you.

"You might think you're a monster, you might keep blaming yourself for who you grew up as or blame yourself for what happened to me, but that girl up there," She points to the ceiling. "She's been through much, much more, and if you don't think that you can save her. . . then realize that she's trying to save _you._" She leaves no room for me to have my say—honestly, I don't have anything left to say— and slams the door shut.

I am left standing in the middle of the kitchen, frozen in place. I command my feet to move, but they disobey me. My body feels lighter all too suddenly and my eyes keep blinking erratically. _If you don't think you can save her. . . then realize that she's trying to save you._ But how could I? We're both so equally ruined that we could be able to destroy everything.

I can never change who I am, nor will I stop blaming myself for everything that has happened. Whether it is my fault or not, I need to be blamed for it—the heaviness of it makes me more endurable to pain. It's who I grew up to be—it's who I needed to be, my father said. A cruel, vicious, worthless creature whose heart has been turned to pure stone.

And Juliette's trying to take all that away.

_I don't have to try to realize it_, I want to tell my mother. _Because already has saved me, in more ways than one. _

My thoughts are immediately disturbed when I hear a loud, ear-shattering scream erupt upstairs. Panicked, I dash to my room, to where my Juliette is.

I'm sorry. She's not mine. I just wanted to know what that sounded like because I know I won't be able to say it again.

When I open the door I see her lying still on my bed, her body curled into a protective ball. She's still sleeping, I realize, but her body's trembling and her forehead is slick with sweat. Her brows are knitted together and her face looks pale, which only worries me more. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I carefully brush away strands of her hair from her forehead.

It makes me wonder how someone like me could possibly touch her like she's the most fragile thing I ever came across. She isn't. She's the strongest and bravest person I've ever met, and my thought of her will never change. I love her, more than she could imagine, more than she will ever know.

"Wake up, love."

She grumbles something and shakes her head furiously, whimpering. Then the tears start falling freely from her eyes, eliciting strained choking and coughing.

"Juliette." I shake her arm. The way she looks right now, the pain on her face, is making me feel as if I've been shot again; it's the same kind of pain when she shot me. It wasn't physical, but emotional, which was much more painful. The hurt, the anger. Then, the feeling of horrification and hopelessness when—

She gasps and looks up at me, her blue eyes glistening. Blinking repeatedly until she's crying again. Before I could do anything to comfort her, she suddenly lifts herself up and wraps her arms around me, her head against my chest. Trying my best to keep both our balance, I hold her there,—albeit hesitantly— my fingers combing her long hair as I tell her that it's okay, that whatever happened wasn't real. Even if I don't actually know what it was.

"But if feems real." She says, her voice muffled as she speaks onto my shirt. "_Oh my God oh my God oh my_—"

"Juliette, calm down." I try to whisper soothing words, telling her to mimic my breathing and the beating of my heart—which isn't doing a very good job since it seems like it's going to escape my chest ar any second. It was impossible for her not to hear that, but if she did, she doesn't tell me nor does she move away. We just sit there in silence, holding each other.

"I'm sorry," She pulls back, her arms losing their grip around me, just before locking her eyes with mine. I want to be lost in those eyes of hers forever. "I shouldn't have—I mean—I didn't —I just—" Closing her eyes, she sighs. Then, she places her head over my chest again, saying something about letting me hold her for a while. I want to say, _yes. Of course. I can hold you forever if you'd like. _But my inner conscience tells me not to get my hopes up, that she's just scared and she needs someone to hold onto. Sometimes it irritates me how much my conscience could ruin my peace of mind, and how it's always right.

"I had a nightmare." She decided to explain after awhile. "It was about. . .someone important to me. I had to. . . I had to watch someone shoot them. I tried to move, but my feet were glued to the ground. And then. . . the one who carried the gun said, 'You stupid, pathetic fool.'"

Her body starts to tremble, and I want to tell her that she doesn't need to continue, but she shakes her head as if telling me she has to. "Then everything changed. The one who was about to kill him was gone, but it was him who replaced the killer. He pointed the gun towards me.

And he said, 'You're no better than them.' and shot me."

"Love—"

"And do you know what I hated the most about that dream? He was right." She laughs once, but there was no humor in it, "I'm no better than them. I'm the stupid, pathetic—"

"Juliette!" I snap. "Don't you dare say that again. You are not like them. They're the monsters, not you." _I'm the monster, not you._ She nods twice, but I could see that she's still not convinced.

"It's okay, love. You're not insane, you're not a monster; you can experience human emotions like fear and happiness—you're human, Juliette."

Silence.

Then,

"You too." She says it so softly that it made me wonder if she wanted me to be able to hear it or not. But whether she did or didn't, I heard her perfectly. I always do.

I laugh once and kiss her on the top of her head. It's a simple gesture, but I could already feel the pulse of my heart turning erratic. And I'm not the only one.

There was a silence that fell between us immediately, but it was a good kind of silence, although I've never known the difference between silences before. I could sense by the frequent changing of her emotions—from anger, to guilt, to denial— that she still hasn't forgotten her nightmare.

Although part of me wanted to know who those people were so I could kill them with my bare hands, there was another part that kept telling me I shouldn't. There's the possibility of one of them being the name of the person I didn't want to talk about. The very same soldier who had betrayed me and hid something from me. And that secret he was hiding was the worst kind, even if you do hear it from someone else.

"I still want to sleep."

I nod and slowly lay her on the bed. She's looking at me like I did something wrong and I'm wondering if I did.

"What is it?"

"Stay with me."

I blink at her, surprised and unmoving. I couldn't have possibly just misheard what she said. But I must be hallucinating. Then I look down at her.

She's looking at me with the softest eyes I've ever seen, and I know right then that I could and would never disobey this girl. There's something about her that makes me feel stronger, more sure of myself, yet at the same time I have the sudden urge to protect her. I'd risk getting myself killed for this girl.

I lay myself beside her and place my arm on her waist, pulling her close to me. I expected her to be surprised, angry even, but when I look at her she was already close to falling asleep. And she's smiling.

It's the kind of smile that hid no secret underneath it. The kind that makes my whole body feel like it's going to burst into flames with the warmth of it. Surely it will make the sun jealous of her smile. It's the most beautiful smile I've ever seen because, for once, there were the emotions I never thought would be directed at me.

Happiness. Gratefulness. Understanding.

She knew that I could sense what she felt, and she was letting me know it. She looks up at me, the incredibly distracting smile still plastered on her face.

"Goodnight," She pauses for a second, thinking, and sighs. "Warner."

I knew she couldn't call me by my frist name—not _yet,_ I'm hoping—but right then, after hearing her, I had a realization. Three, actually.

I want to know what her mouth tastes like when she sighs my name. Badly.

I already found out who she was talking about in her dream, and—

I'm finally forgiven.

The act of being forgiven isn't something you could immediately recognize, not even with my own Gift. Forgiveness is more of a trait than an emotion, I believe.

When she said my name, I knew that I was at least understood, if not forgiven. And I think that even if that's the closest thing she'll ever give me, I'll be fine with that.

"Thank you, Juliette." I whisper into her ear as she slowly starts to fall asleep.

She smiles.

* * *

**For those of you who wanted to know why I made this, it was to support the story of my first chapter. If you'd look at things more closely, Warner and Juliette had been very friendly with each other, while she should have been broken or infuriated at what happened to her. **

**It's also my way of apologizing for not updating quickly. **

**I posted this after chapter 3 because something important happens in Chapter 4 and 5. **

**I'll also be posting chapter 4 soon, after I finish editing it. **

**That's all for now. Bye! **

**P.S. For the bacon and eggs part, that was just something random. I just love bacon. **


	5. Chapter 4: Losing Sanity

**Ignite Me**

**Chapter 4: "Losing Sanity"**

I hate training.

I hate how weird Adam is acting around me.

I hate how Kenji can make me laugh even if I don't want to.

I hate how much I'm relying on the twins to help me find a way to contact Aaron.

I hate how I haven't received a letter from Aaron yet.

I hate how I am slowly losing my sanity the more I'm away from him.

**~oOo~**

Sometimes love can make you more insane than you are now. My sanity is slowly slipping away from my grasp the more I think about the boy I love. Has he read the note I left or is he looking for me now? What's happening to him I hope his father doesn't shoot him I don't want that monster to even touch him.

I hate it I hate it I hate how love can do this to me. I want to see him, I want to feel his skin against mine and his lips on mine. I want so many things but I just can't because he's not here he's not here and if he is then he'll be shot the moment he steps foot into this place.

Sonya and Sara promised to me that they'd never tell Castle about where I really was and what happened to me before unless they needed to. They also told me that they would try to find a way to contact Aaron. So while they try their hardest to give me a sense of hope, here I am doing nothing but train train train.

Castle wanted me to enhance my ability and learn how to control it more, which I don't understand because it is impossible to control my power—you can't control if you kill someone or not if killing is the only thing your power can do. I tried reasoning with him, of course. I told him I'm still emotional after what happened to me the past week. He looked at me with incredulous eyes. I could tell he's thinking, "You're always emotional." Whether he really was, he doesn't say it.

"You need to learn to harness your energy, to control the Energy you're releasing." He says, and I'm thinking, _Ah yes, I have to control my power like it's just some simple destruction meter. Press 2 if you want to die a slow and painful death and press 9 if you want to feel as if you're being burnt to ashes._ Seeing as I feel like all I've ever actually done is sulk inside my room, I accept the offer. I don't actually think I have a choice.

The day after I talked to Castle, Kenji told me to meet him in the training room to start. I was still uncomfortable about Kenji being my trainer after what happened last time—when I thought I had killed him if Aaron didn't tell me otherwise. I hated how much I was relieved to find that it wasn't me who hurt Kenji.

But guilt always comes after relief.

I was guilty because it was Aaron who did it, not me. Also because he was there for me, even when I threw so many painful insults at him. He didn't protest; just held me in his arms until I finished crying. When I started to think about it, Adam never even comforted me like that. Maybe it was because we were both so broken that we didn't know how to fix each other, but with Aaron... He may be broken, but he's trying to fix me—not wanting me to end up ruined like him. He's trying, he's really trying, and it made me love him even more.

I didn't even notice that I was already at the training room until a loud thud sound echoed throughout the halls and my forehead felt like it was hit by a hammer. Stifling a curse, I pretend to fix my hair casually, hoping no one saw that, as I stepped in front of the set of glass doors. Detecting my presence, it beeps twice—the small light on the wall turning green—and slides open.

It's only six in the morning and only a couple of lights are turned on. I could see two matching silhouettes on the far side of the room, unmoving, but seconds later I could see them walking toward me. My eyes widen in surprise.

"Sonya? Sara?"

"Hi." They chirp in unison, two huge grins on their faces.

"What happened? Where's Kenji?" I turn to look around. Seeing no signs of Kenji, I return my attention to the twins. "What happened? Oh my God is he—"

"Don't worry, he's fine." Sara says. "Although I don't think I ever want to mess with Kenji early in the morning ever again. He's cranky when woken up."

"We told him that you guys could train later. We need to talk to you first."

A mixture of emotions cross my face when I realize what they want to talk about, both scaring and exciting me. It's Aaron. _It's Aaron!_ "Is it Aaron? Did you hear anything from him?" Please let him be okay please please please.

"He's doing fine." Sonya says softly. "He says he's fine, but his appearance tells a different story, though. He said he was slightly going insane, but he can still manage somehow."

I could feel my heart beating against my chest now, as if hearing that has finally brought it back to life. Well at least he can still keep himself together, while with me I could actually feel it slip away from me like the sand in an hour glass. That sand is my sanity, falling falling falling to the other side until it's so close to being empty. "Where is he now? Is he okay?"

They nod. "Tate-the guy who met and talked to him a few hours ago-said that he looked, and I quote, 'like hell'." Sara says, making air quotes with her fingers. Whoever this Tate guy is, I already like him for being brave enough to go to Aaron even if he knows he's most likely to be killed. Not too many people are fond with someone who has enough power to shoot a soldier without any remorse. But I know that what those people think are wrong. I know him better than they do.

"I'm sure you're still sleepy, seeing as it's only five in the morning," Sonya says, smiling apologetically. I return the gesture, but mine is saying that it's okay, that I couldn't actually sleep ever since I got here, and if I do, I am always haunted by nightmares of Anderson and his gun. "We really are sorry. We have to go to the Medical Wing soon and we might not have been able to tell you until then. If you need to send something to Warner, then don't hesitate to call us or Tate." They tell me his room number and his work station.

"Oh! And here." Sara pulls out a folded piece of paper from her white medical gown and hands it to me. I take it, both curious and excited to know what's written inside it. One thing I do know is that this is from him. He wrote this. My heart feels like it's going to pour out of my chest any second now, but I tell it to calm down.

We talk about a few other things before we say or goodbyes, but before they're close to the door I call out their names. They both turn around.

"Thank you!" I call out. For me, these words aren't enough, but right now, with what they did, I believe that this will satisfy. I am indebted to them. To these people who went their way to talk to him just for me. "I know that you guys are saying that you owe Aaron, and that's why you're doing this, but I really wish I could do something to repay you."

"Our debt is not yet paid. It takes more than just one favor to give to be able to repay the person who saved us from being killed." They spoke in unison and I'm starting to wonder what actually happened when they were kidnapped. Maybe Anderson did something horrible to them and Aaron saved them. As much as I want to ask, I don't bother. They can tell me their own story at their own pace, and I'm fine with that.

"And we're not doing this because we owe him, Juliette. We're doing this because we trust him—and, most of all, we trust you. He's changed because of you, and we know that it's a good thing." I want to hug them so badly right now. Instead, I thank them again as I watch the twins exit the room.

I love my friends.

**~oOo~**

Kenji came immediately after the twins had left, looking both pissed and amused at the same time when he spotted me in the training room. At first I thought he knew something about what happened, but when he asked me what the twins wanted from me, I told him, "They said they wanted to repay me." He didn't push anymore questions, but I could tell he wasn't contented with my answer.

We finished three hours later and I've never felt so tired before. Kenji tells me that he couldn't train me tomorrow because he has to do some duties with Adam.

Adam. I haven't seen him since yesterday, and we only had the chance to talk for a few minutes. And he was weird then. He kept smiling at me the whole time we talked and he even pulled me in for a hug after. My shoulders tensed, but I decided to let him hug me.

I really should tell him about everything soon. About Aaron, about Anderson. About what I plan to do. But I don't think I have the courage to tell him yet. I just hope that I can before my plan becomes set.

I told Kenji that it was okay and that I have to do some other things tomorrow-which was nothing-and we parted then.

As soon as I finish showering and changing into a white shirt and shorts, I sit on the edge of my bed to open the letter, not knowing what to expect. Just thinking about what this letter contains scare me. I close my eyes, praying he's still safe, and open the letter.

**~oOo~**

Hello, love.

I'm so sorry if it took me a while to write you this, but I didn't actually think that you'd find this. If you do receive this, then I'll start with this:

I am dying without you here.

I hadn't left my normal routine-I really had no choice, seeing as I am the leader of Sector 45-but every time I get home I always expect you there, waiting for me by the door, and when I realize that you're not there...well, let's just say some of the things in this house needs to be replaced...and repaired...

About Kent... I still have many things to discuss with you about him. Things that you should know not because you have to, but because you need to. I don't want you to think that I'm going to hide all my secrets forever.

Honestly though, it's not Kent whom I trust; it's you. I trust you, and that, I think, is the most I can give to you for now and for me, trusting others isn't really in my list of habits. (I still don't like Kent. Don't get me wrong. And if he ever touches you I swear to God I will—)

My father postponed the war; it wasn't canceled. I was surprised to hear the news that I had to come up to him and ask him myself. He said that it wasn't over yet, and when I asked him why he had to do this, he ridiculed me and told me not to pry into his plans. It was unusual for him not to share things that involved me…unless there's something he's hiding something.

After contemplating about it, I came to the belief that his intentions were more than just to kill those who are gifted. Whatever secret plan it is he's hiding, I am positive that it is a very crucial part to everything. And he doesn't want anyone to know until he had done it on the spot. It was his specialty: surprising in the worst way possible. But I do think that his intentions are more personal than just despising or even envying us, and one thing that I am sure about is that I will find what that reason is. But here is what I think:

I think that he knows Castle. Or that he himself has some sort of power. There might be a chance that having these gifts is genetic. If the answer is yes, then I hope that he never finds that out.

Enough about him.

I want to know what's happening to you now. One of my soldiers came to me, asking if I've read the letter and would like to leave a reply (his name is Tate Emerson). You should've seen the surprise on my face and the fear in his. He thought I was going to shoot him on the spot because I found out he was a traitor. In truth, I was close to hugging the poor man, just like how I've been thanking Dilaleu often lately. He almost collapsed in front of me when I promoted him. I think you're the reason why I'm turning like this. And I can't wait to thank you when you get back...

If you're coming back...

Love, please come back.

I'll be waiting, trying to keep myself together, for you,

Aaron Warner

I love you too, Juliette. I don't think that's something that could ever change, even after a lifetime. I'm hoping that you remember that.

**~oOo~**

I place my hands on my chest, the paper clenched in my fist. He trusts me. He loves me. He's changing because of me and I'm just wishing that I could teleport myself to where he is right now and hold him like there's no more tomorrow and he's the only one I want to save in this world because he is my world.

But

my thoughts linger on what he said. The Supreme knows Castle? Or he's a Gifted? And then I'm silently praying, begging, that what Aaron thinks isn't true. There's another reason for this because he doesn't deserve to have powers.

he's a monster

he's like me. And he doesn't deserve those kinds of things. This is too cruel, I tell the world. Making monsters isn't a joke. And I think I've already had enough with your jokes.

Making monsters. Monsters like me.

The bed groans lightly as I stand up. I've never felt so relieved yet so lost in my life. I don't know what to do now what do I do now what do I-

Then something catches my attention.

There's something written at the back of the letter. I unfold the paper again. It's been crossed out with black ink, but I couldn't tell if he wanted me to actually read it or not. I try to make out the words and add ones of my own to fill in the spaces.

Have. Seen. Paper. Vacation. Room.

Have seen paper vacation room

Have you Seen the Paper during my Vacation inside the Room.

Snatching the jacket I brought with me when I came back here, I bolt out of the room and ran to where Aaron was once held hostage as a plan to persuade the Supreme to surrender. He told me before that this—being held hostage— was like vacation to him. That he actually preferred being here rather than being there outside.

People along the halls keep asking me why I'm in such a rush when I run pass them. In response, I just smile and wave at them. I don't think they want to know that I'm looking for something the person who was held captive before had left, who was the same person whom I loved.

When I reach the room where Aaron stayed in, I looked around, checking if someone was actually guarding these empty rooms. Finding no signs of them, I push the green button beside the doors. With a beep and click, the doors slide open.

It was left the same way I last saw it.

1, 2, 4 white walls

1 white ceiling

1 white mattress that is the only thing left in this room.

1, 2, 7 times I keep figuring out how Aaron wasn't able to lose his mind inside this place.

While scanning the room for any cracks or dents that could contain the "have seen paper vacation room" Aaron mentioned, bittersweet memories started to fill my thoughts. Though this room still makes me shiver, and not because of the cold wind, I couldn't stop but reminisce about when I had to visit Aaron here.

When he told me he wanted to be my friend. When he told me to prepare for war. When he told me he won't give my notebook (and he still hasn't). His tattoo and battle scars. All the memories come raining down on me that it starts to hurt both my head and my heart.

I think I need to sit down.

Pushing down all those memories of us in this room, I sit down on the only piece of furniture in this room. He wasn't kidding when my bed felt more comfortable.

Then,

I hear something crackle, like the sound of crumpling paper. Hope starts to fill me. Maybe he did leave something here after all. While sitting, I turned around, looking for where it could have possibly came from, but it gave no hints as the sound ensued. When I stopped searching, so did the crumpling.

Slowly, I looked behind me. And there it was. Right behind me was a small hole on the mattress, as if slashed on purpose. It was indeed small enough to hide something that could be found by someone who knew where to look, who was given hints on where it was located.

I reached out and inserted my hand inside the hole, digging through the foam inside. My hand froze when I felt something sharp poke my index finger. I grab hold of it and immediately pull my hand out along with the paper.

One thing I knew was that whatever this paper contained, it was before I told him I loved him. This was something he did not want me to read, but how could I actually resist? Whether it contained something that could hurt me or not, it will be my own fault because I searched for it in the first place. Nothing will change when I read it; I still love him.

Though I am slowly struck by terror as I unfold the piece of paper in my hands, showing words and sentences that are written like whoever wrote it was hurrying, panicking, as this was being written down.

When my eyes glance at its contents, I knew that there were some things that were really kept as a secret. But one word that caught my attention the most was the word "brother"

And I'm thinking that maybe he knows.

Maybe he knew all along that Adam and James were his brothers.

There is only one way to find out. So I start reading it from the very beginning.

* * *

**This is, by far, the most boring chapter I have ever written (in my perspective. I don't know if you guys liked it) So anyway... The next chapter will be about what Warner wrote in that letter/note/something. Then after that we'll finally have some Warnette-stuff! Yay! **

**Oh, I also wrote another extra, but it's more of an AU type of story. I don't know whether I should post it here or in a "new story" though. It's still Warner x Juliette, but it's not Ignite Me anymore.**

**So to sum it all up, I'll be posting 3 chapters this month, including this chapter~**


	6. Chapter 5: Entries

**_Ignite Me_**

**_Chapter 5: "Entries"_**

**Entry 1, dated 06/09/xxxx**

Juliette,

If that is you, then I must have either given you some sort of clue or you found it on your own. But why would you even go to this place and search for something you don't need? I suppose it's the first choice then. And if it is the first choice, then you must have already forgiven me for what I did—or, while I was writing this, what I plan to do.

It's simple, actually: Escape Omega Point, return to base and think about all the things I could do to apologize to you for everything I've done.

You will never know how much I regret doing that to you, Juliette. Not because I kissed you but because I did it thinking that you loved me back. It's hilarious how delusional people become when they fall in love. You are my biggest downfall love, and my previously wounded arm would agree with that.

But you know what? I like it.

I like knowing that I have some sort of weakness. That I could at least call myself someone who has some human attribute. And you're the kind of weakness that I will never forget.

If you're reading this now, then I want to tell you that I am sorry. I am sorry for kissing you. I am sorry for torturing you. I am sorry for entering your life...

Yet I can never apologize to you for falling in love with you. That is something that I can never change, and I am sorry for that.

**Entry 2, dated 06/10/xxxx**

The moment I woke up I knew that there was something different. I was healed. I was clean. I was thrown inside some sort of room full of things that's doing little to keep me company. What I hated the most though was the fact that I felt a small amount of hopelessness inside that room. That, when I tried to look at things from your perspective when you were locked up, I knew how it felt like at least to be locked up. But I will not compare myself to you; you've been through worse.

I hated that you had to go through all this, and that there are actually people—excluding my father— who are cruel enough to send you to that place; to give you a twisted reward that you never deserved in the first place.

You probably already know that I have seen your files and also the complaint sheets and medical sheets your parents filled up. And what they wrote there was complete, excuse me love, bullshit. They were false accounts, different from how I see you and how I know you.

You're different, Juliette. You may feel as if the powers you have is a curse, but it's not. It could possibly be the only thing that can save everyone. I've never believed in a chance for a better future, a chance for change, until I met you. I'm hoping I'm right.

Also, I'm sorry for stealing your notebook. I'll tell you where I've left it when I finish all my letters to you. If I finish it. I don't suppose it's impossible for people to change their minds about killing me.

**Entry 3, dated 06/11/xxxx**

As much as I love you, Juliette, I think it'd be a good idea if you don't go walking around inside a person's room and staring at them while they're half-naked. It almost gave me a heart attack. Though I'm not saying that you shouldn't do it again. Just not with any other half-naked people.

You asked me back then inside this room what my tattoo meant. The word IGNITE.

Sometimes not all words can have a literal meaning. This word right here isn't simply a word. It's a code I live by, and more importantly, it's something that will remind me every time I forget who I am and what I've become. It's the truth.

I Grieve Nothing

I Take Everything

You might not understand how much these words mean to me, but I hope that you agree with these words. I'm a selfish, heartless bastard.

I didn't want to tell you this at first. But when I thought about it I realized that you might not care anyway if I tell you or not.

The scars on my back are also another painful reminder. One that I don't dare write on paper. One that, if I'm still alive, you have to ask me personally. Because telling what these meant will be like stripping off everything that I ever had, giving out every secret that had never left my lips, and I don't think I'm ready to give it to someone who does not care about me.

Sometimes I wonder if you're keeping a secret too. One that you've never told Kent.

Oh wait, you are. You're keeping me a secret from him because you don't want him to know that he's not so special anymore. That he's not the only one who could touch you.

Honestly, I never wanted to tell Castle in the first place. But then I had no choice. How? You'll have to ask me personally with that one too.

I have so many things to tell you. But I'll tell you the biggest secret later.

**Entry 4, dated 06/13/xxxx**

I can't change who I am, love.

As much as I want to, it's too late. Nineteen years too late.

Sometimes I wished that you came into my life years before, when it was still possible. When I told myself to not give up.

The fact that I have some sort of power doesn't make the slightest difference. Now I know that I am one of you, and what now? What happens to me? Do you actually think that the people of Omega Point would still welcome me with open arms, acting as if I just didn't kill one of their family members or tortured them in some way? I knew you've never thought of life being easy, but what you don't know that it's not just that; living is the hardest thing that we encounter everyday.

So do you really think I can change?

I may be hopeless, but you're not. And maybe you can still change me.

**Entry 5, dated 06/14/xxxx**

Sometimes I wonder why you have to waste your precious feelings on Kent. He doesn't deserve your love. No one does. Because Kent is someone who I do not want to meddle with.

Not because I hate him. But because I owe him. I owe him a life. My life.

Let me tell you a story that happened a few years ago, long before you and Kent were born.

Once upon a time, a woman gave birth to a son. He was destined to be a great leader, his father declared, he would one day be one of the few who will own The Reestablishment. That boy's sole purpose was to continue his father's plan of retaining order in the world. But that didn't mean his father wanted peace.

But when the baby's mother found out about it she had decided to leave him. She loved the boy's father, but his father was already too blinded by power and wealth that he had changed into a man with the wrong intentions. So she knew she had to leave, no matter how much she loved him.

They say that love can conquer anything. They were wrong.

When love is too weak, evil takes over (spell it backwards and it says "evol". My mom used to tell me that.) and that was something she didn't want.

Guess what the Supreme Commander did to stop her from leaving? No idea? Then I'll tell you:

He had injected some sort of drug that made her grow weaker as time passes by. He did it while she was sleeping, the baby nestled beside her.

She won't even reach the age of 60 by the time the drug controls her.

Because of this the mother can no longer carry her own child, and she rarely left her bed, so the Supreme had to raise his own son. Taught him how to be the greatest soldier in his army. A puppet for his show.

And did you know what was worse than that? Not only did he drug his wife, he also betrayed her.

She found out from one of her former soldiers—she used to be the Supreme's assistant—that he was cheating on her with another woman. But what could she actually do to stop it? She'd always get beaten up whenever she tried to level herself with him, and he would always threaten to kill his own son if she continued doing it.

One year after his first son was born, there was a new baby. And his name was Adam Kent, son of Annabel Kent and Eric Anderson.

And this is where worse comes to worst.

Father knew who Kent was, which is why he appointed the boy as one of my men. I had no choice, he threatened to kill my mother if I disagreed.

Sadly my own brother didn't know me. Turns out he never told Kent that he had an older brother, and that brother was his boss. We both became soldiers at a very young age.

Then things changed when I turned 14.

My father was going to return to his base, and he wanted to take my mother with him. I didn't want him to. I begged him, even when he started to whip me. In the end he grew tired of me very quickly and agreed. But there was a condition.

Leila can stay with me if I kill Kent's mother.

I know you'd hate me even more if I say that I did kill her. Which is why I won't. But, please, try to to understand why I had to do it.

Leila's the only person who had the heart to forgive not only my father, but also me, and I don't want to loose her. She's found hope in a boy who's hopeless. She found kindness in a boy who's cruel. she found love in a boy who was full of hate. She's all I've got left to fight for before I met you.

So yes. I killed Kent's mother. I had to murder their mother when her sons were asleep just so I could save mine.

I know you want to ask me how I knew that Adam and James Kent were my brothers. Father told me, of course. "You can kill any of your men for fun," He told me. "Except for Adam Kent." At first I was confused. Why didn't he want me to kill him? But when I looked at his fact sheet I saw it. Proof that he is my brother. I didn't even think about killing him despite my anger towards his mother. Ah, but I was so close to cutting his head out when I found that he had betrayed me. And that you had falling for him, of all people.

To this day I still think about Kent, about his mother who died because of me, because of my selfishness, childish behavior and mother complex.

After everything is over I want you to tell him that I apologize for what I did. A thousand apologies can never bring her back, but I just want to get the huge amount of baggage off my back for a second.

* * *

I blink and blink and blink until my eyes are no longer filled with tears.

Then I start reading again.

* * *

**Entry 6**

I thought you could actually love me for who I am. I thought you had finally opened your eyes and realized that, maybe, things can change. I sworn I saw the love and forgiveness in your eyes. I felt you heart beating erratically, your fingers eagerly wanting to run through my hair. I felt you breath go faster, your skin grow hotter. I saw you open your lips to say my name before you crushed my heart, for Christ's sake. But I suppose I was wrong. So, so terribly wrong.

You finally let me in. You loved me. I gave you my heart and you held it, kept it and saved it until you were tired of it all too quickly. You let it die and rot in that room of yours. I told you to shoot me but you didn't. Why did you have to wait? Why did you have to play with me instead of killing me, which is better than...than this?

I hate to tell you... But you're a monster, Juliette. Not because of your power but because of what you do to me. What you make me feel. I gave you everything I had to offer but you turned it down, crumpled it and burned it into ashes.

I Give Nothing

I Take Everything

I tried so hard, love. I tried so hard to change it.

I gave you everything and I took nothing from you. But what's it worth when the only person you loved and could change your ways breaks not only your heart, but also your trust.

I'm extremely tired and terribly broken.

You could've shot me sooner. You should have shot me back then, when you had the chance.

I don't hate you and I can't come to do that. I want to hate you. But my love for you is stronger than you will ever know, and that's the most painful part.

I really am sorry for falling in love with you, Juliette.

Goodbye.

* * *

I close my eyes and breathe in. I breathe in every letter, every word he had written. I breathe in all the secrets he had shared. The string inside me has broken, and, this time, "breaking" is a good thing right now. Aaron has been forced to do things—horrible things— for the sake of the only person who's never given up on him. The secret about Adam's mother is not something I want to tell him myself; Aaron at least deserves to tell him, brother-to-brother.

There's more to Aaron that I will never know until I ask him. And I want to ask him now.

_I'm leaving_, I announce to the world. _I'm leaving Omega Point and I'm going back to Aaron's house. This time it isn't a promise, it's a risk. _

A risk I'm gladly willing to make.

**~oOo~ **

It doesn't take me that long to find my way out of Omega Point. I only gave myself the allowance of five minutes to prepare my things and change into my gear, just in case. Luckily, there weren't too many guards and some of them were too busy mingling or sleeping. And as much I wanted to visit Brendan and Winston, I suppose I could visit them next time. If there is one.

Despite the jacket—Aaron's jacket—I'm wearing, my body is still shivering from the cold. I rub my hands together and breathe out as I still try to process the things Aaron wrote.

I knew I should be infuriated at Warner for what he did. But how could I when I am just like him? We all tend to do things—stupid things, dangerous things—for the sake of those we love, even if we know it's consequences.

He had to kill Adam's mother to save his mother. He had to do it out of love. For love.

I knew both Aaron and Adam had gone through terrible and traumatic things. But I never knew the extent of how far those things go. And how cruel Anderson really is, ordering his own son to kill the woman he had an affair with.

"You there! Stop!"

My body listens to the order. My feet are frozen to the ground, my shoulders stiff and my heart is beating like a raged animal trying to get out of it's cage. I slowly drop my bag on the floor and raise my hands up. Then I turn around.

I'm surrounded by 8, 10, 12 men, each of them carrying a gun. They all wear the same camouflage attire, a number of badges pinned to their left chest side. They're looking at me like I am a criminal, like I am the biggest threat they have ever met—and it's true. None of them seem familiar, but I do know one thing: these are Aaron's men.

"Explain why you're here after curfews." One of them says. Before they could even give me a chance to state my name, one of the soldiers ask me.

"Aren't you Experiment 5H-A773RM3? Under experimentation of Colonel, Chief Regent, Warner?"

"She does not know what you are talking about, Private Roshikov." The tallest and bulkiest soldier in the group—the leader, I'm guessing—gives me a stern look before raising his hand and pointing two of his fingers to me. "Arrest her."

They tighten their hold on their guns while slowly approaching me, trapping me inside their circle. I see one of them reach out for me and I want to say no, I want to say you can't touch me or else you'll die when suddenly I hear someone say "Halt!"

They stop abruptly, their shoulders stiffened. I hear the leader grumble a choice of four-lettered words. The moment my eyes see who it is, my eyes grow wide.

She's wearing the simplest of clothes. A gray shirt and black hiking shorts, a murky green-colored backpack slung on her right arm. She seems like she's in her mid forties even though she does not look like it. Anyone else would've seen this small woman as a normal resident in this sector. No one would be afraid of this person. But I knew better because I could see everything. I could see the slight twitch in her forced smile, the blond hair tied to a neat ponytail, the deep green eyes.

"Aaron's mother," I whisper. She looks at me and smiles that sweet and charming smile that is oh-so similar to Aaron's.

The leader stomps his right foot, commanding his men to salute to the woman. "Ma'am. We apologize for the inconvinience we have caused you to bring you to this street on an untimely hour. We were given direct orders by the Supreme Commander Anderson that if it is still alive—"

"It," she interrupts, a sudden harshness in her voice. "Has a name and a gender, Private. And you will not listen to my husband's orders. You will listen to mine. Or else I will have to report to Colonel Warner about you and your men's behavior toward her. "

"But ma—"

She raises a clenched fist, silencing the soldier. She tells them something that drains the color on all their faces. Something that makes them look at me in disbelief and horror, backing away from me as fast as possible. She says, "Let me finish, Private.

"You will not lay a finger on this girl unless you want me to report you to Colonel Warner of attempting to kill Juliette Ferrars, my son's girlfriend."

* * *

**For the entires...I got the idea from Destroy Me, in the last few pages. For those who don't know, the last few pages of the novella contained Juliette's files, the Reestablishment information sheets of Warner, Adam and Kenji, and also Warner's information log. The log contained him writing about Juliette and how she really isn't a monster and...yeah. **

_**I also have a new cover guys! It's pretty cool if you ask me~ It's just amazeballs. **_**Also, have you guys seen the title and cover for book 3? It's so beautiful!**

**P.S. It's real this time. Warner will definitely appear in Chapter 6 because Juliette is finally going back to his house.**

**Oh btw, if anyone's wondering why I suck at writing. I just want to say that I am somehow better at writing in third person than first person. But all of my fics are in first person lol. I like to torture myself. **

**Leave a review~!**


	7. Extra: The Two Most Important People

**Ignite Me extra**

**Warner's POV**

** "The Two Most Important People"**

We had always expected for the worse, but we never knew that the thing we tried to hide from was already right in front of us. The thing that she spent her whole life fighting against was already there, and it was already undefeatable.

_She died three days ago._

It wasn't difficult and chaotic like what happens to my soldiers whenever they break the law. It wasn't like theirs, wherein they would panic and try to attack meeven though they knew their chances of living were slim. Hers was peaceful. I'll never find out if it was painful, though.

_She died in her sleep._

She told me, while Juliette was still here, that she was going to my father's to settle something with him. I found out, seconds after the announcement of her death, that she had never visited him in the first place. I could never ask her why and where she went to at that time anymore, of course.

_I found her inside her room._

I was surprised to find her there; she never told me when she would return. Then I thought, _of course, this is my mother. She's learned how to keep secrets and hide herself from others. She knows how to create a lie that could convince everyone, including herself. _

When I approached her I still saw the life in her eyes—fading. She lived through small, quiet breaths and the slow rise and fall of her chest. She lived through wrapping her hand around mine when I reached for her.

She never said anything before she died. No last breathy words, no "I'm sorry" or "Aaron" or any words or phrases that people who are seconds from dying say.

_Instead, she smiled._

It's amazing how I am able to cry twice this month. After 10 years. It is, probably, the most humane thing that I have ever done in my entire life.

I watched her hand go limp, her chest stop moving, her face grow pale. I watched her slowly drift further and further away from me, from this nearly-ruined world. I watched her die with my hand gripping hers tight enough to give her a small ounce of pain if she still could have felt it then. I watched her with my eyes blinking rappidly, fighting back the tears that I knew would fall soon. I watched her as my body began to shake and my breaths turned into gasps, struggling for the oxygen I so desperately need. I tried shalimg her, wishing that this was all just a bitter dream, trying to ignore the reality that's right beside me, ready to hit me once I give up.

_I stopped trying 27 minutes later._

I thought that maybe this was best for her. That she never deserved to live in this hellhole in the first place.

_She deserves to be in a better place. _

I would have laughed if I had the voice to do so. This is what every other person thinks when they lose someone important; they'll think that maybe that person died for a reason. That maybe drying was better than living.

_They did is so they would try to act tough in front of others._

They would say that this was a wake-up call for them. That you will never know how important someone was until you've lost them forever.

_But I'm not like them._

Leila's important. She's the person who's given me hope in a world so hopeless. I didn't need to watch her die in order to know how much she means to me.

_I haven't lost her. Not yet. And, hopefully, never._

_But I'm not trying to act tough. And no one is watching me._

My father would have spat at me in disgust if he saw me now. My soldiers would have smiled viciously at me if they saw me. Juliette—

Juliette would have grieve for me. For Leila. She would have cried for her though she never met her. Because she knows how it feels to lose someone. She knew more things that I ever did in my entire life.

I couldn't care less about what people would think of me besides her. She's what I want right now and she's not here. I don't know when she will be.

I need _this. _I need _her. _

I need someone who could find a way to help me breathe.

I need someone who would tell me that it's okay to do this, that everyone has to do this once in a while.

I need someone to tell me that it's okay for a monster like me to do such a human thing like this.

**~oOo~**

My knees give in. My heart collapses. My grief takes control over my body.

I crumble to the floor.

And cry.

**~oOo~**

It did not take hours for my father to find out. Nor did it take days for her casket to be prepared and the date of her funeral to be set.

All of my soldiers came—due to curiosity or if they actually felt sad for my loss; I wll never find out—and so did her former ones. We had the usual ceremony for the people in The Reestablishment who are or were of high ranks. Some of the people she knew had prepared eulogies, Delalieu included. I wasn't one of them. Nor was my father.

He didn't attend her wake and funeral after all.

Maybe he's thinking about how he regrets killing her with those liquids he had injected in her. Maybe he's thinking why it took her this long to die. Maybe he's rejoicing because he doesn't have anyone to take care of anymore and that he can finally disown or kill me. That another woman of his is now gone and he could cut all ties with his son, just like what he did with Kent.

Or maybe he's thinking that he too will have his fall in the future, if not soon. Maybe he's thinking that he's going to be burried just like Leila was, only this time no one will grieve for him. Maybe he's thinking that he doesn't want his funeral to be like this.

Because this is not how I want mine.

I do not want people who never knew me and never cared to grieve over my lifeless body. I don't want to have a thousand men saluting as my casket gets burried. I don't want anyone to talk about how great of a man I was and that I had left a good impression in the world. All of those would be lies.

I'd rather have only 5 people or none to attend my wake. I'd rather have my children and grandchildren cry over my lifeless body than my own men. I'd rather have people who actually knew who I was or deeply cared to speak.

That is, if I live long enough to have one.

**~oOo~**

It was never my intention to fall in love with books. Love to read them, yes—I found it impossible not to. But to fall _in _love with them? It seemed ridiculous.

I had told Juliette about it before. When I was captured and taken to Omega Point and she was forced to cooperate with me just because of my stubborness to talk with others. I felt sorry for her back then, for being forced to do something she hated. But when she told me that she never hated me... Everything took a big turn after that.

It's not that I wanted to torture her or let myself be fooled by Castle and his stupid plan of making me tell my father's secrets by using Juliette. I never even knew my father's plan because 1.) It's not part of my job to know it and 2.) I do not care about him or his plans. Just saying his real name makes me want to kill myself with my bare hands.

No one had ever seen me half-naked before. Nor had they ever seen my tattoos. Showing my back and waist to others is not something I would love to do, especially with my reputation. But I suppose I did when I showed them to her. And when she looked at me as if I was going to strip naked and do something horrible to her. How it made me laugh.

I had seen those two lines while I was scanning the books which could and could not be of any use to the Reestablishment and must therefore be destroyed. It was from The Tempest, by William Shakespeare. The man who also wrote Romeo and Juliet.

The story of two people who had caused the death of many, including themselves, all because of love.

For a second I thought it was ridiculous.

It wasn't until I met her that I realized I would do the same thing those two had done, no matter how idiotic it seemed. I would be willing to risk my life, and my name, for her.

She was my Juliet. My Juliette.

And I'm hoping that this story doesn't go down with any one of us dying though.

I started reading Romeo and Juliet after Juliette had returned to Omega Point with Kent. In fact, I have a lot of other books hidden.

They are the ones which are not necessary for the Reestablishment. They are all hidden underneath my bed, inside my closet, tucked in my drawers.

My father never found out. He never knew how to search.

Books will always be there, I think, whenever you're alone. They will always be by your side, in your head, in your heart. They'll find ways, with their words, to make you fall in love with them. When you die, the words and memories do not. When your body decays, the stories never will. It will remain forever, like your soul. It may never be in it's body, but it's still there.

But books are just things that will temporarily take you out of your loneliness.

When the time comes we will meet people who are like books to us, filled with layers and layers of stories and secrets, dreams and realities. We will never get tired of them no matter how many times we read them. They will grow old with you, die with you, stay forever with you.

They will love you more than books ever did and ever will.

Which is why I spend my free time reading books while she's gone.

I remember how it felt to read her story, to memorize every letter, every word that she says. I remember how she lights up when she laughs and how, sometimes, she gets too lost inside herself that I am left with no choice but to hold her, hating the fact that I can't do anything to bring her back until she returns to the present. I can remember so many things about her.

Which is why I'll keep on reading until she returns. I'll try to find something that could temporarily relieve me of this emptiness.

I will wait until I can finally read my favorite book again.

**~oOo~**

Inserting the bookmark into the page I had not yet read, I close the book and place it on the night stand. This has already been the sixth book I've read since Juliette's departure. It's become a very dangerous hobby.

I look at the cover of the book, at the slightly undeciferable letters, smudged and worn away from years and years of being untouched and unloved. I look at the words that say _JU I S CEA R_. From the way it was written, like poems or lyrics from a peculiar song, this might be another one of William Shakespeare's writings. The third Shakespeare book I've read this week.

I rake a hand through my hair and heave myself from the bed, staring at the digital clock and its glowing red numbers on my nightstand. It's 5:34 pm. An hour and a half since I've started reading the book.

My feet guide me to the bathroom because my brain and the rest of me is too tired. Reading can sometimes drain the life out of me.

Or probably because there's still a sort of emptiness inside of me. A gaping hole in the middle of my heart.

But then I think that maybe it's been there long before I met her. I didn't even know if I have a heart. If I am only a machine programmed to think that I am human and am capable of emotion. Hopefully I am not.

I turn on the water and strip off my clothes, looking at myself at the mirror.

Despite the now-visible dark spots under my eyes and a certain, undefiniable emotion plastered on my face, I still look and feel like the same person I was.

When I was a little child my mother's soldiers—who used to visit us regularly; they stopped coming when I turned 10—would tell me that I'd be the best soldier in this Sector, that I'd be the Supreme Commander in the future and that it was all thanks to my mother and father, the assistant and the leader.

They never knew that I hated the thought of being that.

But sometimes the things that we hate the most are the things we have to live with for the rest of our lives. Like how I ended up like this.

They also told me that I'd grow up to be a handsome man, with blonde hair and sharp emerald eyes, as my mother calls—called it. One who'd be able to make girls swoon but careful enough not to break any hearts. I always knew that I had a handsome face. It wasn't a secret I could keep nor a truth I could hide.

Sometimes those who have the most beautiful faces have the most ugliest personalities. It was true.

Looks never mattered to me. Their just faces. An extra wall that hides you from who you really are deep inside. That's what I always did; act like an emotionless robot in front of my soldiers, fake a smile at the citizens. Only two people have seen me smile sincerely before—and one is dead while the other is still gone.

As I enter the shower I welcome the cold and painful water that touches every part of my skin. I've had an addiction to showering under cold water the past week, despite my ironic dislike for cold things. It keeps me awake the rest of the day because I've been sleeping for less than six hours lately.

It's not the amount of work I receive. It's that once I lie down and close my eyes, the darkness that put me to sleep doesn't come until I have planned almost everything inside my head: plans, laws, proposals, scenarios. What frustrates me the most is whenever I wake up, and all those things I have mentally written down in my mind had already been erased.

Surprisingly, it takes me less than fifteen minutes to finish showering.

I pull down the towel from the rack and tightly wrap the towel around my waist. It's unusual for me not to dry my hair, but I am in no mood of doing it right now. My eyes roll skyward, watching the small drops that cling to my hair, afraid to let go but have no choice but to do just that. I mentally remind myself that I need to get a haircut.

Sighing, I rub my hand on my face and close my eyes for a moment. I open the curtain—

And someone tackles me, wrapping their arms around my neck, making me lose my footing and the both of us fall to the cold, wet floor. I was about to push that person away until my senses take over. Her familiar smell and the softness of her body against mine says everything I need to know who this girl is.

_She's here._

_Juliette is back._

The sight of her here sends a massive shock to my brain that I couldn't help but stare at her in disbelief, my last thought already forgotten. I try to say something, but no words come out.

"Juliette?" I whisper against her ear, my voice hoarse and barely audible. "Is it really you?"

She nods again and again without even uttering a single word. Her hands move down to my waist, sliding down my back and making me shiver. I could feel the hotness of her breath and the tears that have gotten out of her eyes against my skin. Her shoulders shake as a sob escapes her throat, a cry so loud it makes my heart break into pieces. Again. Like it always does.

I give her time to gather her thoughts, letting her cry her heart out while I slowly run my hand through her hair. After a few minutes, that seemed only like seconds to me, she stops crying. She wipes her eyes with the back of her arm and tells me something that eases any of my doubts on whether she's really here or not.

"I'm here. And you're not dreaming."

She adds the last one as if the words I have once told her had already been marked on her brain. I wince at the thought. I don't like relieving old and painful memories, no matter how much I loved kissing her that time. It was a mistake—and I do not even know which one it is I am referring to. Kissing her or walking away from her. How I told her not to shoot me for what I did or how she called my brother's name instead of mine.

Or maybe loving her. Loving her was my greatest mistake.

But I don't care about it—about what transpired that night—anymore.

She's here. She's safe. There's nothing else that I could ask for right now.

She's peppering me with kisses that it makes me laugh for the first time this week. She moves to kiss my shoulder, going up to my neck and jaw. I hold onto her as she moves her way to my cheek and, finally, to my lips.

It doesn't take us forever to completely lose ourselves in the kiss. My hands have already slipped inside her shirt, rubbing the small of her back. She shudders, and I could feel her heart beating faster against mine. Her hands are playing with my hair, gently tugging it as I deepen the kiss, and I can't help but think that I want this. I want her, all of her, right now.

But I am also thinking that this isn't the best place and time to do it.

"Juliette, I—"

"Shhh." She manages to whisper before bringing her lips to mine again. I feel her hands sliding down my back and to the towel that's wrapped around my waist. My mind rings like an alarm clock, reminding me that I'm on very dangerous property right now.

I place my hands on hers and we both part, albeit hesitantly, as we try to control our breathing. She seems slightly disappointed and heart-broken when she looks at me, and I couldn't say that I'm not so angry at myself for stopping that either. But it was the best thing to do.

She looks extremely tired. Thinner since I last saw her. She looks like hell—a beautiful, disastrous hell—and good God, I wouldn't mind if I'm dragged into hell right now.

Neither of us talk for what seems like hours, looking at each other as if we've never met before yet it seemed like we've known each other forever. Looking at her made me believe in love at first sight, knowing that she's mine reminds me that there's someone, too, I'm willing to risk my life for. Loving her made me remember what it feels like to be human again.

_I'm falling in love with her again, and I can't seem to stop._

We accept the company of silence as I reach my hand out to her. She accepts it and I pull both of us up. Juliette rests her head on my chest, watching me as I trace lazy patternless circles on her shoulder.

"I missed you." She says softly, almost quiet enough to seem like she never said anything at all. Almost.

"I know." I tell her, kissing the top of her head. I know that I'm not dreaming. I am, for the first time in a long while, very much wide awake. "I missed you too."

* * *

**[Exhales] **

**Well... That was very...emotional. Like I say in every chapter as a lame excuse for this horrible fanfiction, I never intended the story to go like this. And it's actually try this time. **

**I wrote this at a very dark and emotional period. My...former batchmate died while I was writing this. So if you guys could feel the sadness then that's...uh...me. **

**2 other people I knew died too. **

**Also, the whole thing with grief was the topic we're taking up in Homeroom—**_Homeroom is supposed to be the period when we have free time. I do not understand why we have to do this. This is injustice_**—due to the death of my batchmate. Grief is a really touchy subject for everyone in class that day for obvious reasons. Everyone was extremely tired after that class. **

**Leila's death... It seems too fast and surreal for me. I wanted to develop her character. She seemed like the type of mother who would love her son despite who he is and what he has done. But...the story needs to be shortened. **

**This story will be over in a few chapters. Just saying. **

**I just wanted to add: I published the extra story first because 1. My writing style is better here and 2. I finished this first. I mean, reading the extra before reading Chaper 6 doesn't actually make a difference. It's the same storyline only from different POVs. **

**So...wow...58 reviews...and I keep on getting fanmails about it through aaron-warner on tumblr. Thank you so much guys. Love you all~**

**Chapter 6 will be up in a few. It's already done, just need to **_try_** to proofread.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	8. Chapter 6: Forever

_**Ignite Me**_

_**Chapter 6: "Forever"**_

"Come on." She doesn't give me time to reply; she's already brisk-walking further and further away. For someone who's ill, as Aaron had told me once, she seems extremely healthy, to be able to walk this steadily. And fast. With her beautiful, fragile-looking face, long blond hair and strong posture she looks more like his older sister. You wouldn't even think that she's Aaron's mother.

Except, maybe, the fact that she looks too thin, her cheekbones too sharp and the shape of her spine slightly poking out of her shirt. In that ungodly moment my curiosity went up I felt the sudden urge to ask her so many things; about Aaron, about her husband, why she looks like she hasn't eaten in days, if the story Aaron wrote was really true—

She stops abruptly. My body almost crashes to hers and I mutter an apology. She looks over her shoulder. "Walk with me." She says calmly. I look at her as if she has spoken another language. It doesn't take me that long to understand that she's telling me to walk _beside_ her. I move beside her and we resume walking.

"What question do you have in mind? I can tell that you want to ask me something, and it seems like you have many. " Her voice is so so soft that it reminds me of Aaron. The way he comforts me at night, his arms already holding me, when I wake up at night from the nightmares, breathing heavily and one strand close to going insane. One inch closer from screaming my heart out.

"What the Supreme did to you—with your illness... Was that true?"

She nods. Inhales, exhales. Inhales, exhales. "Yes, it was. Whenever we went to the doctor's. It happened once a month. I never found out what it was for or why they kept injecting it to me until Aaron told me. He heard their conversation about me, about the medicine." She laughed, but it held no humor in it. "I didn't believe him—I told him that he was too concerned for me that he's gone paranoid—until one day I no longer had the strength to even stand up on my own."

I see the darkness cloud her eyes. The anger, the regret. It's the same look I had when I thought my parents would never betray me. "But how are you—"

"Able to walk right now?" She looks down at her shoes, covered with mud and dirt, before looking at me. The anger has turned to something else. Something between happiness and mischief. Like she did something wrong and now, when she has the chance to tell what she did, she can't wait to spill out every detail. "I stopped going to the appointments. Eric returned to his base and I stayed in our house here. Aaron was aboe to reason out with him, tell him that he had to take care of me. He still thinks I'm weak and dying."

She shakes her head. "He's been wrong for so long now."

It's probably the first time she did this, I think. The first time she went against her husband. I continue to ask her questions that involved the things Aaron told me. Except the one about what Aaron did to Adam's mother. I know enough to not question her about that though.

In the end, we ended up talking about other things. The atmosphere remained light and comfortable, which was good.

I also asked her questions about Aaron. I asked her about how he was as child, how he became the leader of Sector 45, how he was doing the last time she saw him. She was too easy to converse with. She even made me smile and forget the world behind us. The world that's slowly crumbling into dust. Maybe that trait runs in the family.

Afterwards she says to me, "Tell me more about you." Fear starts to bubble in my stomach, rising to my throat like bile, reminding me of my parents my past my curse. It reminds me of how people looked at me. How they were absolutely terrified of me. Like I was a murderer even though I was not. How my parents immediately sent me to the detention center. The sign that was too obvious—that they have already disowned me. I can't even remember how they looked like.

Maybe, once this is all over, if I meet them, they'd ask for my forgiveness. They'd tell me that they finally understand and tell me that they miss me. They would tell me that we could work things out, start a new life as a new family.

But maybe I don't want to forgive them. What if?

Maybe I'd rather stay here, with Aaron, with the people of Omega Point. They've given me things more than family ever could. They saw me as a human being, not as a monster a murderer a living nuclear bomb. They saw that I was capable of saving the world. They gave me safety and hope.

And,

most importantly,

they loved me.

But, luckily, it seems like she doesn't want to know more about my past because when I turn to her I could see something that I have never seen in my mother's eyes before.

Love and protectiveness.

She wants to know how I feel about Aaron.

It doesn't have to take me forever to tell her all about him. I tell her about how I was taken to his Sector by one of his soldiers, how he was actually very nice to me, how I thought he only wanted to keep me so he could torture me. Her brows knit together until I tell her that it was never really his intention. I continue to tell her about how we kidnapped him, how I understood a part of who he really is when we had our conversations, how he left afterwards because of our fight—I don't want to tell her it's because I said his brother's name when we were kissing. I don't suppose she needs to have a rundown of that—and how I was taken to their house after I lost consciousness during the fight.

"He left you after he shot you." I winced. Though my fear for the Supreme has been replaced by anger and revenge, I still couldn't get over what he did to me. It's painful to die once and live again; I don't want it to happen to me a second time. And he definitely doesn't deserve to have what I did.

I look down at my shoes as I tell her what I remembered before I lost consciousness. "Aaron healed me once the Su—your husband left. With the help of Sonya and Sara, the twins. If it wasn't for him I would've been dead by now."

"Well I think my son would rather be dead too if you were to die. If it weren't for you he would have already been dead too, dear." She chuckles. "Then I'd have to clean up both of your mess."

"You were the one who cleaned the blood off the floor?"

She nods. "I immediately came out of my room once I heard the sound of the gunshot, only to find two twin girls staring horrifyingly at my son. Who was carrying an unconscious girl with her blood all over his clothes. It's hard not to offer help despite my health. Besides, if I didn't help out then Aaron wouldn't have changed you out of your stained clothes."

My cheeks start to heat, and I'm not sure if it's because her mom pointed it out so casually or because it was Aaron who changed my clothes. He's seen me in my underwear, sure, but he never really saw how I looked like because it was the lights were off that time. He must have been the one who also...

Oh God.

I don't think I could look at him without wanting to shrink myself and hide forever. If he would ever bring that up in the future...

"We're here."

I look up. Even if the house in front of me has always been there, I get the feeling as if it has never existed until now. Maybe it's because it's surrounded by houses with slightly the same exterior design. Maybe that's what the Supreme wanted in the first place; for no one to even know who owns this house and who lives in it. But I couldn't care less.

I may not be at home but I'm almost there. This is my home—maybe forever, so long as I am with Aaron then this is my home. _He_ is my home.

Before I reach out and open the door, I stop and realize that this isn't actually my house, and that the real owner is just behind me. There's a huge difference between the words "home" and "house".

"Tell him I wish my boy the best, okay Juliette?"

"Aren't you—"

I turn around.

My eyes grow wide. My mouth hangs open.

The street is empty.

She's already gone.

**~oOo~**

When I open the door, I am welcomed by a silence that neither haunts or tells me that there is no one home. I could sense that there is. That and the sound of water hitting the floor above. Someone's taking a shower, and I'm hoping it's him.

The silence both terrifies and calms me. Calming because I haven't had some peace and quiet in my life eversince I left; terrifying because it might not be him and I might just die if not, both figuratively and literally.

I take slow silent steps up the stairs, following which room the sound is coming from. There are three and, if I remember, the right one is Aaron's.

I open the door to his room, then to his bathroom. I might just be invading his privacy—something I know has never happened to him before—but I don't care.

I'm home and he's still here he's still alive and I don't know how I was able to contain myself for so long.

I try to think of ways on how I should greet him. Should I surpise him? Or should I tell him now? I don't know I don't know I don't know and my useless excuse for finding ways to greet him was interrupted by an unfamiliar tune from a very familiar voice. My mind stops panicking and my heart slows it's beat, calmer, syncing it's rhythm with his beautiful voice and I think

I have never heard him like this before.

I have never heard him sing before.

I have never heard the sound of grief and anguish like this before.

It's a slow and soft tempo. It's extremely calming, yet, if you listen closely you could hear sadness laced in his voice. Loneliness and and pain. I had forgotten what the sound of someone singing sounds like. It's been years since I last heard the sound of music, and the last time I did was before my parents discovered that I was a monster.

I stood there, motionless, my eyes closed as I listened to every word every hum every sigh that escaped his lips and echoed throughout the white walls. I listened and listened and listened until, sadly, he stopped mid-song and pulled back the curtains.

And I had lost myself.

I had lost my control.

I hugged him faster than a fired bullet ever could. My arms are around his neck, a sob escaping my throat. We both fall to the floor, my weight over his. _I'm sorry_, I want to say. _I heard you sing, _I want to say. _I love you_, I need to say.

But nothing nothing nothing comes out and we just lie there in silence. I could feel his eyes on me, drinking me in and staring at me in disbelief, as if he's in a horrible horrible dream and I'm just an illusion. That I'm going to disappear once he tries to return my embrace.

But I'm not.

I'm real and I'm here and there's no other place that I want to be.

"Juliette?" He whispers, his hot breath tickling my ear. "Is it really you?"

I nod again and again until a few of my tears have escaped my eyes, my arms moving down to his back. He shivers under my touch. I could feel the rough marks on his skin against my palms. The marks he had gotten from his fights. The marks his father left when he was a kid.

It took me a long time to gather myself. My sobs grew louder as the memories, the letters he wrote, the faces of the people I left behind flooded my thoughts. My tears slipped faster and faster when I realized how much I missed this. Missed his arms around me, the steady beating of his heart calming me. Missed _him_.

After a long time I tell him, "I'm here. And you're not dreaming."

When I look up at him, a shadow of himself crosses his eyes. For a moment he looks pained, as if he remembered an old unwanted memory. But he quickly recovers when I kiss him. I kiss his cheek, his jaw. I kiss his neck and his collarbone. I kiss him again and again until he's laughing—a sound that makes my heart do cartwheels—and he's tipping my chin up, bringing his lips to mine.

It starts out soft at first, as if we're trying to familiarize ourselves again with each other, but then the kiss goes deeper, harder, and I'm starting to lose my sense of control. I let out a gasp as his hand slips inside my shirt, rubbing my back. He moves his lips to my neck, kissing and sucking my skin gently. My hands play with his gold hair, something I've missed doing.

He pulls back a little.

"Juliette I—"

"Shh." I whisper and bring my face down to his, kissing him again. His muscles relax and he lets me kiss him for a while until my hands move down to his waist, wanting to undo the towel wrapped around him.

We hesitantly pull away from each other. Disappointment floods me but I know and I understand why he's doing this. Why he doesn't want to take it further.

And my heart couldn't help but smile at the thought.

The room is filled with silence—but the good kind. The kind that's saying you don't need words or any sound to tell someone you love them. I could see the look in his eyes. The look that reassures me that he still loves me. That's the look he gives me every time.

He offers his hand and pulls both of us up. I place my head against his chest, listening to the calming sound of his slightly fast-paced heart beat, feeling the lazy circles he traces on my shoulder. A small smile plays on my lips. "I missed you."

"I know." He replies. "I missed you too."

**~oOo~**

I'm sitting at the edge of his bed, waiting as he stands in front of me, still in his towel. He's looking at me through the mirror he's facing. There's a cocky grin plastered on his face.

"I'm going to change. And you really should wipe off the drool on your face, love. It's unattractive." He peers back at me through his shoulder. "Aren't you going to turn around? What you're going to see is going to scar those innocent eyes of yours."

I smile at him, ignoring the heat rising on my cheeks. "No, I'm fine. I've seen you like this before. And I don't think my eyes are that innocent."

"That may be true, but I really would like it if you turned around."

"Why? Are you embarrassed?"

"No, I'm not."

"Then just change already!" I tell him, a laugh wanting to escape me.

He shook his head, his smile growing wider. "Do you really want to see my naked body?"

I nod and burst into laughter. He shakes his head, laughing, and throws his shirt at my face. "Just go and change, Juliette. You really need to take a bath."

"I don't smell _that_ bad." I protested, but decided to listen to him anyway.

**~oOo**~

Later than night he tells me all about what happened to him. He tells me about how he read to pass the time. How not much had changed since I left. He seemed sadder, though. I could tell it in his eyes. I know that whatever it is, it's something he's not ready to tell me yet, and I'm willing to wait until he does.

I also told him about what I did while I was in Omega Point. I told him about the twins, about how thankful they are for what he did.

"It is I who owes them." He says, kissing me quickly. "Without them I would've lost the person I love the most."

We also talk about what I had found in the room he stayed in. About the things his father did. About Adam and his mother, what Aaron had to do to her to save his own. His body seems tired when he clarifies all of this, his shoulders slumped and his eyes losing the spark that I saw back then. The regret and self-hatred was obvious in the atmosphere around us. I panicked then, afraid that he would start to talk badly about himself, just like he did before so I kissed him, cutting through his words. He seemed taken aback at first, but gave in quickly, the life in him regaining.

He must have noticed what I felt back then because he never asked my why and what the kiss was for. He still continued though, but this time the atmosphere was lighter. The hatred and regret will never go away, I finally understood that, but I'll try my best to remind him every time that it wasn't his fault; his dad made him do it and, helpless, he had no choice.

None of us ever really did when we were kids.

But now—now we knew what we're capable of. What we can do.

Now we make our own choices, and mine is to bring down Anderson.

**~oOo~**

I was almost close to falling into unconsciousness when I feel Aaron gently shakes my arm from behind me. The hand draped on my torso pulls me closer to him. "Juliette, are you still awake?" He whispers, his voice gruff and hoarse. He sounded like he was crying.

"Yeah." I turn myself to the other side so I can face him. "What's wrong?"

"It's just..." He closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose. Sighs. "Just a horrible dream."

I wonder why we have these things. These nightmares. I myself could never experience one night of sleep without having a nightmare—I learned to accept that fact. I also learned that all nightmares are dreams, but not all dreams are nightmares.

Aaron seems like the type of person who gets dreams—or nightmares—rarely. The proof is etched all over his troubled face. Scared, anxious, frightened, angry. It's the same emotions I get when I wake up from a horrible dream. "Do you want to tell me?"

He goes silent for a too long that I thought that he had fallen asleep until he pulls me even closer to him. Close enough to let me feel the beat of his heart. The heat of his soul. His head is on top of mine, his hand is entwined with mine, and I couldn't help but think that it would be fine for me to remain like this forever. Away from the world and from destruction and disaster. Forever in this boy's arms.

It makes me want to laugh. _It's impossible, _I think bitterly. _You have a role to play in this world, and it is not to hide yourself and the boy you love from the horror of the world._

"It was just like that night." He started. He inhales and exhales inhales and exhales inhales until he stops at 10 and continues again. There's a slight change in his voice when he speak, but he's trying to hide it. "I haven't told you that story, haven't I? I suppose it was impossible not to tell you, so I might as well be sooner than later. I can never hide anything from you, love.

It was only a few days ago, I think—God, even I forgot when it was—when I found her. I just got home from a meeting when I found her. She was dead. She died in her sleep." He laughed, a sharp bitter sound that echoed throughout the walls of the room.

"He never—He never even went to her_ wake_. I thought he loved her more than that. I thought that maybe, since his wife is dead, he'd finally show some humane trait. But nothing happened. She didn't deserve to die that way. She didn't deserve to be _disrespected _by her own _husband!" _His body starts to tremble, his shoulders shaking violently and I don't know what to do—I don't know how to calm him or tell him that it's okay because it isn't. I don't know because I saw her I was with her a while ago and she's dead.

She had been dead for God knows how long and I was with her.

_This isn't real this isn't real this isn't real_

"Do you know what I found in her room that night?" He asks, more to himself than me. "I found a_ letter_ under her pillows. A letter that she wrote before she died. She spent the last few minutes of her life writing a goddamn letter to me of all people. And guess what—she knew exactly what time she would die! She knew exactly how long she had left and she never told me!

...It even... It even contained things for you. She wrote something for you too..."

He finally loses his composure his remorse his anger everything everything that shaped who he was into the man with a warm heart beneath a thick layer of coldness and cruelty is all gone, just like that. He's sobbing and choking and hiccuping and all I could do is lie there and hug him close to me. Because it's all anyone could ever offer to those who are grieving. No one can tell them that it's going to be fine or that the person they lost is still with them because they're all lies. Just a ball of lies covered and coated with small truths and words of reassurance.

Aaron deserves more than just my warmth and love. He deserves to be comforted rather than comforting the girl beside him who's now crying too.

But that's impossible.

Because we never get what we deserve. What we want for other people is not what they want for themselves.

So we both accept what we could get and thank the moon and the stars watching over us because we knew that even if our wishes can never granted we were, at least, never alone.

We eventually fall asleep in each others arms while talking about anything and everything that we could. We were able to find a way to protect ourselves in a protective shield, disappearing from all the ruins and obstacles the world has been throwing at us since the day we were born. It may never be permanent but, at least, it was enough to give me hope.

I fell asleep with his arms around my waist and our legs a tangled mess under the covers. I fell asleep with my head on the crook of his neck and his on top of mine. What he never knew, though, was that underneath the pillows lie a secret that would never be spoken.

One secret that Aaron doesn't need to know.

that I was with his mother a few hours ago. That she had been there, talked to me, even touched me while we walked back to this place. Because I honestly do not know why she guided towards their house.

_I was with her_, I hazily think to myself as I am slowly pulled into unconsciousness.

_We talked about you._

_She told me that she wishes you the best._

**~oOo~**

"It was difficult to get you out of your clothes, you know. Especially since you had been so stiff that time."

"...I'd rather not talk about this."

"But why? Wouldn't you like to know about what—_Fine, fine!_ I'm just kidding. I never did anything to you." He snorts. "I have my morals."

"Good."

"But honestly, love. You're beautiful, you know that?"

"Aaron..."

"What's so wrong about pointing out the obvious? You _are _beautiful, Juliette. Inside, out and all the way through." He said affectionately. "But it was extremely hard to keep my hands to myself, you know."

"What do you—"

"Never mind." He interrupts, chuckling. "I just really love you."

**~oOo~**

Aaron showed me the letter—the plan—his mother gave to him after breakfast. He tells me that he thinks that her plan might just work. I believe that too.

We start to dissect the parts of the plan a few minutes later. Aaron called Delalieu today and told him that he won't be able to arrive since he hasn't been feeling well since last night. Surprisingly, he said, Delalieu seemed both eager and relieved when he replied.

I knew what Delalieu was thinking about, and I wanted to thank him for that. "Maybe it's because you were too focused on your job rather than—well, you understand and—what?! It's true that you're always too determined with your work! He thinks you were just making an excuse to spend the rest of the day alone and undisturbed."

He grins mischievously, as if he knows something that I don't—a secret he doesn't want to say—and I'm jealous. I want to know what this secret is. But he doesn't give me time to ask. "Delalieu knows better than to fool for that kind of excuse. I have never skipped work before." He leans closer. Whispers. "Besides, I'm not 'alone and undisturbed'."

"Of course. I'm here." I tell him, breathless. It's different somehow, this feeling. Maybe it's because it has been so long since I last left or because this might just be the first time we've ever talked that I never sounded so damaged and insane.

Because I can feel the butterflies and the whales and the elephants. I can feel the fire as his fingers lightly brush against my skin. I can feel the whole zoo inside my stomach and it's the most beautiful feeling I have ever come across in my entire life.

He looks at me with those eyes of his and I'm wondering how many times will it take me to drown from swimming in those sparkling green eyes of his. I want to get lost in them, to drink in the intensity of his eyes until I'm so so drunk that I could barely even remember what my name is anymore. That all that will remain in my memory is his name and his love.

After a decade of silence, finally he says

"Yes, you are." He says "Forever." He kisses my jaw my cheek my chin. He plants a soft kiss right beside my lips, but I tilt my head a little that he ends up pressing his lips to mine. It doesn't take forever, though, for us to get lost in each other.

"Forever." I manage to say. It may not mean much to him, but to me it means more than the world. It's the word that gives me hope. That tells me that, maybe, I can be able to stay in this world for a long time without loosing my mind.

**~oOo~**

We were able to plan everything out before the moon came up to greet me like the loyal friend it was. But maybe we could have finished sooner if we didn't have any unnecessary —but badly wanted—interruptions.

We start acting it out tomorrow. The plan.

The downfall of the Reestablishment.

That is, if the people of Omega Point will listen to what I have to say.

* * *

**A/n: I'm already starting with Chapter 7! **

**Changed the cover too. If you guys haven't noticed, it's a mixture of Ignite Me's and Shatter Me's eye. I used the Shatter Me colors and title for the rest though. **

**OH BTW: I need a beta reader or proof reader or anyone who could at least fix my grammar. I'm awfully tired of having to re-edit and replace the chapters again and again. Sigh. **

**Just PM me or leave a review if you want to help me~ See ya soon!**


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